


cross your heart (stay alive)

by twilighteve



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Casual Magic, Character Death, Detective AU, Gen, Ghosts, Magic, Magic AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Ryan Bergara, Spirits, Supernatural - Freeform, Urban Fantasy, but not really???, kinda gory?, ryan sees dead people, shane repels ghosts, tagging to be safe, they're around folks the ghosts spirits and supernatural tags are there for a reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 20:29:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilighteve/pseuds/twilighteve
Summary: Ryan is a medium who attracts ghosts like a flame attracting moths, who lives and breathes coldness and fear despite being one of the best paranormal detectives in the field. Shane is a seemingly ordinary man who radiates warmth and drives away spirits regardless of their nature, with a penchant for historic and ritualistic knowledge essential for the supernatural investigations. They make a great team in their investigations, and are the go-to for the paranormal homicide cases that pops up from time to time.When they were assigned to a ritualistic murder case together with Sara, they thought it would just be another case, if a tad more violent than the usual. But then a tangled web of a shared past they couldn’t remember caught up to them, and suddenly it wasn’t just another case; it was personal.They never said it was easy, working in a paranormal detective agency.





	1. Chapter 1

Ryan dreamed.

He dreamed of the dark and flashes of red, of a shrill scream somehow muted in his ears and liquid dripping down his hands. He dreamed of staring into dark waters and seeing a pair of red orbs glaring back at him.

And then things switched, and suddenly he was lying down on the road, blood pooling underneath him and pain beyond words coursing through him. A dark figure knelt by his side and caressed his shoulder, and then plunged their hand deep into his chest.

(Was he screaming?)

(Did it matter if he was?)

A sudden, alarmed shake rippled through him and he opened his eyes with a gasp, disoriented but alive. Remnants of pain he never quite felt had left him stiffening into himself, and the soft, warm light of his bedroom’s lamp eased him into life. A familiar warmth gripped his shoulder as though trying to ground him. He looked up through blurry vision to meet soft brown eyes, the dream already fading into a foggy blur.

When he spoke, it came out as a croak. “Shane?”

The taller man was kneeling by his bed, staring at him with worry etched into his features. “You were screaming,” Shane explained softly.

“Oh,” Ryan blinked and sat up, and Shane finally let go. “Sorry about that. I was – I had a dream, I think.”

Shane tilted his head. “ _Dream_ dream or _vision_ dream?”

“Vision,” Ryan answered as he rubbed his eyes. “I think there’s going to be a new case tomorrow.”

* * *

 

There was a very distinct smell that clung into every surface of Shane and Ryan’s office, as Sara found out the first time she stepped foot into the cold cases department that the two men occupied. It was a mix of the old papers they flipped day to day and the burnt herbs and potpourri they put around the room to ward off spirits, one that Sara would never have been able to identify if she hadn’t seen the place herself. The smell hung to the men’s clothes and hair, with the emphasis on papers on Shane’s shirt and fingers, and Sara couldn’t help but find it weirdly attractive. Helen once told her Ryan smelled more like burnt sage and whatever concoction he put in the potpourri littering his apartment, the papers no more than a hint that somehow made the ensemble of smells complete.

To be fair, the whole paranormal detective agency they worked with smelled faintly of burnt herbs, but on Ryan it was even stronger. Sara wasn’t surprised – the guy needed a lot of sage to make sure no malevolent spirit would latch onto him.

She knocked on the open door to the cold case department, and both Shane and Ryan looked up to meet her gaze. Shane’s face melted into a soft smile as he stood to greet her, while Ryan waved from his spot from between the conspiracy boards and bookshelves lined with old case folders.

“Hey, Sara.” Shane enveloped her in a one-armed hug and kissed the top of her head while she breathed in the papers and herbs in his shirt. “What brings you here?”

“What, I can’t drop by to greet you guys from time to time?” Sara quipped with a grin.

“Not saying that you can’t but your office _is_ at the other end of the building,” Ryan shot back from his seat. “And, you know, you complain about that all the time during lunch?”

Sara broke into a laugh. “Fair enough,” she conceded. “Jen assigned us a case. Us three.”

“Jen did?” Shane broke in, a brow raised in surprise.

“Yeah, you know how she gets from time to time, when she kind of just blurts out whatever crosses her mind and it turned out to be a surprisingly good prediction?” Sara asked. “The higher-ups are sure this is one of those times. She said she thinks all three of us needs to work on this case together.”

“Why us three though?” Shane wondered. “You don’t usually get assigned with homicide cases.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re the cold cases guy but you always get assigned with new homicide cases.”

Ryan laughed at Sara’s retort. “That’s true. Maybe the agency shouldn’t put people into departments in the first place; we all get all kinds of assignments anyway. Remember that time Steven got roped into a homicide case because of the poisoning and stuff?”

“Oh right, that happened,” Shane cracked a grin at the memory. “He’s a, an enchanter?”

“Yeah, and his magic apparently works best with edible matter and kitchen utensils,” Ryan explained. “And gold, weirdly enough. Point is, he got roped into a homicide case even though he usually just works with Andrew in larceny department.”

“Yeah, the cases I get assigned with mostly don’t really have anything to do with creative magic,” Sara mused, “or even drawn spells. They’re just… cases.” She ran her tongue along her teeth and stepped back from Shane, straightening. “Anyway, I think we should go to the crime scene. I was told a detective would give us the files there as we take a look at the crime scene.”

“Did anyone tell you anything about the case?” Ryan asked as he took his jacket and stood up.

“No,” Sara replied. She waited for the two men to follow her out, and she led them to the parking lot. “I think the higher-ups want you to take a feel at the crime scene first. Get that unbiased first reading, you know?”

“Fair enough,” Ryan agreed.

The drive to the crime scene was quiet, broken only by Shane’s soft humming. Sara wasn’t sure what song it was, but she was pretty sure it was one of his self-made Hotdaga songs, judging from the way Ryan’s brows crinkled in distaste. Or, at least, it was something with similar vibe. She grinned to herself and bopped her head along the song.

“Dear god, not you too,” Ryan groaned, and both Sara and Shane cackled.

“It was catchy!” Sara defended.

“ _Thank you_ , Sara,” Shane said between his laughter. “I’m glad someone in this car has a good taste.”

“Okay, screw you both,” Ryan grumbled flatly, but there was amusement in his eyes. “You’re no longer welcome in my home.”

“We’re roommates!” Shane protested in faux indignation.

“Move out, then!”

Sara cut through the banter with a laugh. “Move in with me instead,” she chimed in.

“About goddamn time you do, honestly,” Ryan muttered.

“What about you though?” Shane asked suddenly, all trace of a laugh in his face vanishing. “I mean, I moved in with you because that one time you almost got possessed.”

“I _did_ get possessed, Shane, get your facts straight,” Ryan corrected with a tone that suggested he was informing Shane that _cheesecake has cheese in it, it’s literally there in the name_.

“ _Alright_ , I’m _sorry_ , you were _possessed_ ,” Shane rolled his eyes powerfully. “We can’t have you missing from work like that one time. I’m pretty sure if Rie didn’t feed you the food she laced with her homebrewed potions you’d be spending a lot of time in hospital then.”

“I mean, if you’re gonna move out, then I’m gonna ask Sara to draw me warding sigils in the apartment.” Ryan glanced at Sara and grinned. “That’s okay, right?”

“Of course it is!” Sara responded quickly. “Can’t have you bedridden in hospital. The bill’s going to hurt both you and the agency a lot.”

The conversation lulled into silence as they drove to the crime scene. They parked three blocks away from the actual scene, as the roadblock made it difficult to get closer on car, even if they already had the permit to go through police line. As they walked, Ryan casually shrugged on his jacket and kept his hands on the pockets. The jacket exuded faint smell of sage with every step he took.

“Do you need to hold my hand?” Shane offered. “Before the cold gets too strong?”

“No, I can deal with it,” Ryan declined. He glanced around as if assessing the whole neighborhood, pausing every now and then, before fixing his gaze back to the road.

“No need to be shy!” Sara coaxed. “I don’t mind you holding hand with Shane, with you needing it and all.”

“I just don’t really want to make a weird first impression,” Ryan explained wryly. “The last detective was, uh. She made us uncomfortable.”

“She was homophobic as hell,” Shane elaborated bluntly. “It wouldn’t have mattered if I showed her a picture of us kissing. She was just that bad.”

Sara wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Yeah, I guess some people just deserve to burn in hell. But! What about we just _all_ hold hands? Let’s make a human daisy chain and embrace the weird. That way we can _both_ hold Shane’s hand, right, Ryan?” Sara held up her hands and wriggled her fingers. “I mean, he does have two hands.”

Ryan burst out laughing at that. “Jesus Christ, that’d be really weird.” He took out his hands and held it out to his companions. “Seriously though, I’m fine. My hands are still warm. If you two want to hold hands then go ahead and hold hands, don’t hold back just because I usually have to borrow Shane’s hand to keep warm.”

Shane hummed as he turned at an intersection. “Too bad I can’t detach my hand. That’d come in handy in situations like this.”

Sara paused. “Was that supposed to be a pun? Unbelievable. That was horrible. I love it.”

They reached the crime scene, a small bend on the road by the river that was partly concealed by the buildings around it. It was one of the shadier parts of the city, and Sara couldn’t help but inch closer to Shane to seek a sense of safety. She was pretty sure the burly man standing around by the yellow tapes threw her a leer. Shane seemed to sense it and closed the distance, casually bumping his hand to hers. The simple brush helped alleviate the knotting nerves in Sara’s stomach.

With the distracting nervousness gone, Sara looked around and sharpened her senses to detect any kind of creative magic that might have lingered in the air, or any kind of freshly used drawn spell. She immediately received feedback on musty, aged chalk-drawn spells and the dizzying aftertaste of various drug-spells, which was popular with the crowds that wished to experience the high weed offered but didn’t want to smoke. There was also a hint of newly erased art spell infused into chalk graffiti and some sort of spell Sara couldn’t quite identify, a spell that felt almost thick and dark, old. It was some sort of drawn spell, but not one she was familiar with. It felt painted with some sort of liquid instead of drawn with chalk, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get the feel of what it did. But there was something else, something different; a different spell that wasn’t really drawn but almost felt familiar in it in a way that was disturbingly _un_ familiar. A gap, a rift, an opening…

Portal magic. There was a hint of portal magic around the crime scene.

Sara allowed her senses to dull once more, deciding to wait until she heard the detective in charge’s information before sharing her findings. She glanced at Shane and Ryan to check on them.

Shane, as usual, was unperturbed by their surroundings. With him being the resident ghost repellant, he didn’t have a keen sense for the dead like Ryan did or for magic like Sara, which made him pretty much the embodiment of _chill and sometimes stupidly confrontational but pretty much just a bit wary_. His gaze swept across the neighborhood, critical and sharp, ready to offer observations on the non-spiritual and non-magical. Not having the sight or magic made him able to look at things without being biased, unlike both Sara and Ryan.

Ryan, though. There was something different in his demeanor, much more fidgety and jittery than usual despite the fact that Shane was around. He kept glancing at the river by their right and back at the detective standing over a body covered by a cloth only paces away from them. When he caught Sara’s gaze, he shook his head slightly and mouthed, “Later.”

When they reached the detective in charge, the person turned around and smiled at them. “You must be the detectives from the paranormal detective agency,” they began. “I’m Morgan Jones-Zhang, the detective in charge of the initial investigations. They/them pronouns, please.”

“Hello,” Shane greeted. “Shane Madej, at your service. That’s Sara Rubin and Ryan Bergara.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Sara offered.

Morgan hummed as they nodded. “I just wished it was under better circumstances. Anyway.” They held out a large brown envelope to the group. “This is the documents you’ll probably need. We figured this must have been a ritual murder, so a paranormal detective would be better suited for the job.” After Ryan took the envelope with a murmur of _thanks_ , they straightened up. “We checked for an ID earlier. The victim is Nathan Fischer, aged forty two. We haven’t run the background check, but we’ll forward the documents to your office once we have more info.”

Something about the name pinged Sara’s attention, though she wasn’t sure why. She decided to file it for later.

“How did you figure that this is a ritual murder?” Ryan asked, opening the envelope for the documents inside.

“For one thing, the killer drew sigils around the victim using the victim’s own blood,” Morgan began. They bent and gripped a corner of the cloth covering the body. “For another… well. You’d probably be better off seeing it for yourself. I hope you’re not queasy.” Without waiting for a response, they quickly but carefully removed the cloth.

Sara’s breath caught, and she immediately pressed her palm onto her chest, just over her heart.

Nathan Fischer had been a handsome man with earthy brown hair and startlingly pale grey eyes peeking underneath silver-rimmed glasses. The sky blue shirt he wore was stained by the brown of dried blood. Sara could see the sigils Morgan described; five similar symbols arranged to create the perfect circle – or pentagram – around Fischer as if trying to trap him inside. There was a hole in Fischer’s chest.

Sara wasn’t a forensics specialist, but she was fairly sure Fischer’s heart was missing.

* * *

 

Ryan was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

There was something decidedly _wrong_ about the crime scene. It was cold, as per the usual, with it being a place touched by the dead. What made it weird, however, is how there was no spirit around.

Normally, a killed spirit would at least hung around the scene to see if they could give a clue as to who killed them, but the scene was clean from any spirit. In fact, the ghosts around the neighborhood had been floating away from it, as if trying to get as far away as possible. Which was unnerving; Ryan could tell many of them were territorial spirits. Unless there was something seriously fucked up, they wouldn’t move from their usual haunt.

The fact that Ryan was getting a sense of _déjà vu_ didn’t really help, either. He felt like he’d gone here before, even though he knew he never stepped foot into this area. His mind flashed to the vision he had just last night, and he frowned. How awfully convenient for the spirit of the victim to have contacted _him_ of all people. He got visions sometimes, from spirits desperate to be heard, but rarely was it so accurate that the day after he got a vision he would have to handle the case in which the spirit that contacted him died in.

He glanced to the water of the river. He could almost imagine seeing red orbs staring back at him. He licked his lips and looked away, focusing instead on the detective standing over covered body, but his gaze kept being drawn to the river as he imagined seeing the flash of red over and over again.

And then this _shit_.

Ryan didn’t wake up this morning so he had to deal with ritual murder in which the victim’s heart was _gone_. He’d already had his morning coffee, but he’d need at least ten more cups before he could even begin to deal with this. Ritual murders in general sucked. Ritual murders in which the victim’s organ was gone _sucked_. Ritual murders in which the victim’s goddamned _heart_ went missing _supremely sucked_. Even with Ryan’s limited knowledge of sacrificial rituals, he knew the heart meant a lot and could be used in a lot of things. He’d hate to have to deal with the killer.

But of course he was supposed to be the detective in charge, together with Shane and Sara. Fate just loved to fuck with him like that.

He glanced at his companions. Shane had put a carefully blank look in his face as he drank the sight of the dead body, eyes jumping from sigil to sigil as if committing them into memory. Ryan had no doubt he was already planning his research into the sigils, as he was the one most well-versed with ritual essentials and history within the group. The taller man leaned back and rolled his shoulder, an uncomfortable look crossing his face before it settled back into neutrality.

Sara, though. She was still pressing her hand into her chest, as if scared her heart would leap out. She was pale, and there was a nearly imperceptible tremble in her fingers.

“Anyway,” Morgan spoke up, and Ryan snapped to attention. The detective smiled tiredly and nodded at them. “I give you the reigns over the investigations. We’ll mail the rest of the documents later – more detailed background check on this guy, crime scene photos, autopsy report, the like.”

“Of course,” Ryan nodded. “Thank you, Detective Jones-Zhang.”

Morgan waved dismissively. “No, it’s nothing. If anything, thank _you_ for taking this case. I don’t think the police department would be able to handle this on our own.”

“Well,” Shane began with a small smile, “I’m sure I speak for all of the agency when I say we’re more than happy to help.”

Morgan returned the smile, though they didn’t say anything more. They nodded a goodbye and turned, leaving the crime scene for the three paranormal detectives.

“Sara,” Shane called softly as soon as Morgan was out of earshot. “Are you okay?”

Sara jumped in surprise. “Oh, um. I’m fine. It just surprised me, I think… I’m not used to dealing with murder cases.”

“Tell us if it gets too overwhelming,” Ryan requested. “We can take small breaks if any of us need it.”

“That applies to you, too,” Shane added, staring straight at Ryan. “If a possibly harmful ghost get close to you, you come to me. I’ll hold your hand as long as it needs.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ryan nodded, but Shane just scowled deeper.

“I mean it! That one time you actually got hypothermia!”

“That was _one time_! And the ghost caught me by surprise!”

“Nice try, but someone’s body temperature don’t just drop in like a minute.”

Sara cleared her throat. “Boys, boys,” she sighed, “as much as I enjoy watching the two of you bicker, I really would rather not have to stay here longer than we have to.”

Both Ryan and Shane dropped their gazes to the dead body and winced. “Right,” Shane muttered. “Well, let’s get to work.”

“I felt a hint of portal magic when I checked earlier,” Sara spoke up. “It might be how the killer got here in the first place.”

“If it is, then it’s good,” Ryan commented. “Portal magic is rare as fuck, the suspect pool is already narrowed down a lot.” He paused. “I’m gonna probe around for a bit.”

Shane nodded and gave him a wide berth. Ryan took a deep breath to mentally prepare himself, and allowed his sense to roam freely. The breath that he exhaled came out as white puff of mist as he let the cold in. It didn’t matter that there were no spirit around; a place touched by death was still a place teeming with the artic hug of spectral energy.

He frowned. It was odd, to not even feel the _hint_ of the dead spirit. It was like the ghost of Nathan Fischer had vanished from the face of earth. He focused and sharpened his senses to search the leftover aura Fischer could have left, to see if he could find where he went. He found it in no time, but his frown deepened.

That was odd. Fischer’s spirit really did vanish without trace. That wasn’t something a spirit would just _do_. They left footprints, they left lingering cold, there was always _something_ to track them with. Unless…

Ryan’s eyes widened in horror as realization dawned, and he let out a strangled noise. He pulled in into himself, desperate to escape the cold that suddenly felt stabbing. He looked up and reached out, grappling for Shane’s hand. The taller man responded immediately and offered his palm, which Ryan grabbed. Instantly, the cold subsided and made way for the soft comforting warmth and life Shane exuded.

“What? What did you find?” Sara asked as she creeped closer.

“We’re – we’re sure that Fischer’s heart is gone, right?” Ryan asked instead, and he didn’t like how wobbly his voice sounded to his ears.

“Yeah, why?” Shane gripped his hand tighter, and the warmth spread more quickly along Ryan’s limbs.

“The spirit is also gone. No trace,” Ryan answered weakly.

Sara looked at him with confusion clear in her eyes, but Shane caught on quickly. He took in a sharp breath, and his face paled slightly. “Heart and spirit,” he said dully. “You’re saying that the killer took out the heart and made the spirit vanish.”

“Is… that possible?” Sara asked uncertainly.

“Unfortunately,” Shane confirmed. “Considering this is a ritual murder, the killer might have wanted to take Fischer’s spiritual energy for themselves. Taking the heart would be the easiest way to do it.”

Sara’s face mirrored Shane’s complexion. “Are you saying that his heart was…?”

Ryan nodded. “I’m pretty sure. The killer ate the victim’s heart, and in doing so consumed his spirit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought to post this on a later date, but 1) i just finished exam and wanted to celebrate, 2) VACATION, 3) gotta get hype for the bois this weekend
> 
> anyway, another psychic!ryan story with shane being able to drive away ghosts, ft. sara (and probably other buzzfeed people, later). please note that i only did minimal editing with this one, and that more character tags will be added as i write more characters into the story and more additional tags will be added later on to avoid spilling spoilers all over the place.  
> (also, this is my first multichaptered rpf, so apologies in advance if things get weird sometimes)


	2. Chapter 2

Shane had seen some messed up things. He was, after all, one of the best paranormal detective in one of the most well-known paranormal detective agency in the States, and as one who had to deal with a lot of cold cases the police or other paranormal detective agencies dumped on them he also had to do a lot of research. Messed up things, paranormal ones, was basically his day to day meals.

A ritual killer eating one’s heart and consuming one’s spirit, though. That was new.

Well, no. Not really that new. Shane had done some reading on human sacrifices. Human sacrifice had been done a lot throughout history, and the Mayan people had been carving out people’s hearts out ages ago. Still though, finding that in the modern day-to-day society was just plain eerie.

“So, Shane. What do you think?”

Shane blinked and turned, meeting Ryan’s expectant gaze. He glanced to the camera pointed at the two of them, which TJ operated. “Um.” He licked his lips. “I’m gonna be totally honest with you. I didn’t hear what you were saying.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and looked at the camera. “Look at him. You’ll have to forgive him, we’re sort of neck deep in a new case right now. Which we can’t tell you about, I’m sorry to say. Ongoing investigation and all that.”

“We might release some information once the case is closed,” Shane added. “We just don’t know when that will be.”

“That’s true,” Ryan nodded. “Anyway, about the case. The human combustion one.”

“Oh, right.” Shane straightened up. He’d almost forgotten that they were doing their usual weekly video to be uploaded later in the internet. It was limited, of course – they could only talk about cold cases that absolutely no one could crack, as the ones being reopened would be confidential, and if they were doing a video on _those_ cases then they could only list off whatever was already public to avoid possibly spooking off the real culprit. Still, it let in a steady stream of cash, and no matter how famous a paranormal detective agency it was _still_ a paranormal detective agency. They don’t make that much of an income. “Well. It’s a fascinating case, I’ll say, but I’m gonna lean to the scientific explanation.”

“What, that she somehow drank enough alcohol to burn everything to ash?” Ryan asked incredulously. His mouth stretched into an amused smile.

“Who knows. Maybe. Human body is weird.”

Ryan shook his head. “Anyway, that’s about all that we know about this case. I think we might reopen investigation if there’s enough demand, since that’s what our job is supposed to be and all.”

“Yeah, at this rate I think we actually talk more about cold cases than actually reopening and reinvestigating them.” Shane paused. “Ryan, what are we doing? We’re supposed to be heading the cold case department in the agency.”

“And yet here we are, investigating new cases and making videos about cold cases that we should probably be investigating,” Ryan said in monotone.

“And also history,” Shane added. _Unsolved_ was Ryan’s baby project. His was _Ruining History_.

“And also history,” Ryan agreed. He sighed. “You’re right, what _are_ we doing?”

“What I know we have to do now is to deal with the new case we’re in charge of,” Shane said. He twirled his pen in his fingers. “Gotta go, chop chop. This case is going to be a pain.”

“That’s true.” Ryan turned to look at the camera. “Well, that’s it for this weeks’ episode then. We can’t guarantee we’ll be able to make updates as much as we want for an undetermined amount of time.”

“Case investigations,” Shane added apologetically. “You know how it is.”

“As for _this_ cold case,” Ryan tapped the table loudly, “we still need a lot more scientific and spiritual research for it, unfortunately. For now, the curious human combustion cases will remain unsolved.”

There was a pause before Shane stretched like a cat. Oof, that felt _way_ better than it had any right to be. “Well. I guess that’s that for the filming?”

“Yep.” Ryan stood up and, following his example, stretched. “Ritualistic murder! Fun.”

“Sara texted me she’ll come here later once the files are delivered from the police station,” Shane informed. “Though, at this rate, it’ll probably be more practical to create a group chat.” His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out to check. “Sara’s just texted me. She said this room is too far and she’ll be waiting at the map room.”

“Map room – the history records room? The one you use as a set for your _Ruining History_?” Ryan asked, eyes squinted slightly.

“Yes.”

“I keep forgetting you and Sara call it the map room. Gotta start using it, honestly, it’s so much simpler than history records room.”

Shane grinned as he stood up from his seat. “I still don’t know why you haven’t adopted the name. You’re the one calling this room the conspiracy HQ.” He glanced at the myriad of boards littered with pinned paper and connected strings. Conspiracy HQ certainly fit.

“Yeah,” Ryan muttered as they left the room, pausing to look at the sign by the door reading _Cold Case Storage and Investigations_. “I really don’t know.”

They made their way to the map room, passing several other rooms – offices, whatever one might be inclined to call them – on their way, waving back to Curly when he waved a greeting through a window and smiling in amusement watching Jen, Devin, Kristin, Chantel, and Freddie battling with what seemed to be a makeup kit, razors, and, for some reason, fire extinguisher and hammers. Honestly, the things the ladies at women crimes department went into could be more than a little perplexing. They had several experiments to see if period blood could do blood rituals as well as fresh (animal) blood a few weeks ago. (The answer was no, though Devin did say more experiments would be needed to draw definitive conclusion.)

They were stopped when someone bumped into them with the speed of a bulldog puppy running out of the agency’s elevator in full speed. Ryan, who was at the front, grunted in surprise but managed to keep his balance.

The unmistakable tuft of silvery hair bounced when Steven straightened. “Ryan, Shane,” he said, slightly out of breath. “I’m really, really sorry about that.”

“No worries, man,” Ryan assured.

“Is something wrong?” Shane asked, noting the slight paleness in Steven’s face.

“We – uh, Rie, me, Adam, and Andrew were at the kitchen doing some experimenting on potions,” Steven explained, talking almost too fast for Shane to follow. “Something went wrong, Rie thinks she maybe put something that reacted badly with other ingredients, or maybe I enchanted something or something, Adam and Andrew tested the potion, they’re, um, they’re kind of incoherent right now. Also they’re starting to turn green. Like toads. Do you know any spell to maybe reverse all that?”

“We’re no medical mage, Steven,” Ryan said dully. “Also, did you say they’re turning green, like toads?”

“Can you maybe take a picture of them and give it to us later?” Shane added.

“ _Guys_ ,” Steven gritted out.

Shane stepped aside. “Your best bet is going to be with the medics. Good luck turning them back to normal.”

“Alright, thanks,” Steven nodded appreciatively and dashed ahead.

“We still want the picture!” Shane called after him as he slipped into the elevator.

“I didn’t know we had medics,” Ryan mused.

“Not really,” Shane shrugged, “but there are a lot of medical mages running around in several departments. Considering the shit people in this agency get into, they might as well be our official medics. I’m pretty sure Steven knows, he and Andrew stick way too many things into their mouth.”

Ryan snorted. “That’s true. _Truffle steak with gold sprinkles_ ,” he said, tone lightly mocking. “Still, I hope Andrew and Adam will be fine soon.”

“Is it bad that I hope they’ll stay green for a bit?” Shane mused. The elevator dinged as they reached the floor they were supposed to go to and Ryan snickered as he walked out.

“To be fair, I’m hoping the same,” he admitted between wheezes.

They entered the map room, and immediately Shane felt at home. It was a shame the map room wasn’t much closer to conspiracy HQ, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. Nevertheless, he was pretty sure he spent the most time in here compared to other investigators in the agency. He gave the room a once over – at the back, lining the dark walls, were lines of metal bookshelves, some of them already bent under the weight of the tomes they housed. A triptych of the world map made of wood hovered in the air, suspended using some sort of anti-gravity magic. The map was enchanted with a spell to check geographic locations of whatever historical events the history records room contained – if, say, someone wanted to know where the atomic bombing happened, the map could display the locations of Hiroshima and Nagasaki once the person asked the map politely. Underneath the map were three wooden tables, set side by side. Sara sat at the end of the leftmost table, bent over a sheet of paper, drawing something on it. A folder sat on her side, no doubt the case files they were supposed to be looking over.

“What’s that you’re drawing?” Shane asked curiously.

“Coffee,” came the chipper reply. Sara straightened up, reached into the paper, and pulled out a perfectly formed paper cup filled with steaming coffee. She grinned at the two men and asked, “Any of you want to try this?”

“The last time I tried your drawn coffee it tastes like ink, so no,” Ryan declined automatically.

Shane grimaced. “I’m with Ryan on this one. I’m all for eating weird food, but inky coffee is where I draw the line.”

“Suit yourself,” Sara shrugged. “I tried making this with actual coffee for maximum coffeeness this time. Let’s see how it tastes.” She took a sip, frowned, and made a face as she drew back. “Welp. Nope.”

“What does it taste like this time?” Shane asked curiously.

“Kinda papery,” Sara answered. She took another sip and made a face again. “Blehhh. Not kinda; it’s _really_ papery.”

“Alright then, I’m just gonna go get some actual coffee,” Ryan pivoted on his heels and walked to the door.

“Can you get me something, too?” Shane chimed.

“Me three,” Sara added.

Ryan rolled his eyes as he opened the door. “Yeah, yeah. You both owe me twenty bucks each.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s extortion,” Shane protested, but he couldn’t help the smile that crept to his lips. Ryan only laughed and walked away.

When Shane turned back to face Sara, she was staring at her drawn coffee in disappointment. “Well,” she sighed, “that’s a waste of good coffee, I guess.” She pushed it back into the paper from which she pulled it out and tore the paper in two.

“Uh, excuse you. That wasn’t by any means a good cup of coffee,” Shane said, a playful smirk at his lips.

Sara snorted out a laugh. “You got me there.” She pulled the case file closer to her and opened it. “I guess I should try out different combinations for it. I still want to see if I could create my own food.”

“You’ll probably need the help of a kitchen witch for it,” Shane commented. He walked to the table and plopped on it, making himself comfortable right in front of Sara. He looked down to meet her eyes. “As amazing as your magic is, I just don’t think it’s well equipped for food.”

“Hm.” Sara tapped her chin in thought before craning her neck to meet his gaze. “Maybe I should ask Rie later.”

Shane grimaced immediately. “Maybe not anytime soon. Apparently there was an incident in the kitchen earlier. Steven said Andrew and Adam are turning green in the literal sense of the word.”

“Ooh.” Sara’s eyes widened in interest. “I’m gonna need some pics later. Are they okay, though?”

“Steven _did_ say they were incoherent, but he went to get the medics, so I’m not worried.” Shane glanced at the case file and ran his finger along the edge of the papers. “Come on, let’s start. We can bring Ryan up to speed later.”

“Okay,” Sara said, leaning forward and plucking papers from the bunch. “So let’s see…” she skimmed over the paper and shuddered. “Whoo. That’s _nasty_. Fischer’s heart was _ripped out_ of the chest. Like, literally ripped out. Someone actually plunged their hand into his chest, grabbed his heart, and pulled it out.”

“They didn’t carve it out?” Shane asked in surprise, feeling more than a little disturbed.

“Not according to this report,” Sara replied. She shuddered. “Are the cases you have to deal with always like this?”

“No, this is definitely an outlier,” Shane assured. “And thank god for that.”

“No one in the police department could recognize the sigils – no surprise there, the police department focus on non-paranormal crimes,” Sara muttered. She thumbed the page before flipping it, opting to look at Fischer’s personal information instead. “Anyway, our guy apparently has a small company and helps people cleanse their houses of possibly malicious spirits. He founded it around ten years ago. Before that, he…”

Shane waited for Sara to continue, but she didn’t. He frowned and looked straight at her. “Before that, he what?”

Sara didn’t respond. Instead, she was staring intently at the paper she was reading, eyes darting left and right as she scanned the paper. Her hand shot to the folder and she flipped through the pages before grabbing a photo, and when her eyes landed on it, she froze, eyes wide and breath hitched.

The door swung open, and Ryan casually strolled in with three mugs of steaming coffee in his hands. “I got everyone coffee, unless one of you prefers that drawn coffee garbage. In that case I’ll have two mugs of coffee, so that’s a win for me.” He stopped in his tracks when he saw Sara frozen in her seat and Shane staring at her in worry. “Uh… is something wrong?”

“ _Sara_ ,” Shane called, voice sharp. It startled Sara out of her stupor, and she jumped, the paper and the photo both falling out of her hands. The paper fell right into the folder, while the photo found its way to the floor and landed by Ryan’s feet.

“I, uh…” Sara looked around, wide eyed. She giggled nervously. “Um. I think – I think I need some air. I’ll see you in a bit.” She shot out of her chair and bolted out of the room, ignoring Shane’s alarmed and worried calls.

“What was that all about?” Ryan wondered. He carefully stepped over the photo and put the three mugs on the table, then bent to pick up the picture.

“I don’t know,” Shane answered softly. His gaze was locked onto the door Sara had gone through. “She was reading the victim’s background info and looking at the photo, and then that happened.”

Ryan hummed in thought. He stared at the photo, which showed a young man with long earthy brown hair tied in a low ponytail. The startlingly pale grey eyes were unmistakable. “Is this Nathan Fischer when he was younger?”

Shane blinked and peered at the photo. “Uh, I guess?” He took the paper with Fischer’s background information and skimmed over it aloud, “Nathan Fischer, aged forty two, founded a small spiritual cleansing company ten years ago, hopped around state to state for seven years before that, and… spent his late teens and early twenties doing door-to-door cleansing, during which he introduced himself as Nate Fisher? For some reason, around 2001 he went back to Nathan Fischer.”

“Had a makeover, too,” Ryan added as he gestured at the photo. Compared to the dress shirt present Fischer wore when he died, the baggy, tie-dye shirt Fischer had in the photo looked almost hippie-like. The difference was jarring when seen side by side, but then again nearly twenty years had passed. “I guess he developed taste.”

“Shame, the tie-dye shirt was lit,” Shane commented. Ryan laughed when he snatched the photo out of the younger man’s hand, but the laughter died when he realized Shane had been serious. Shane ignored it in favor of squinting at the tie-dye Fischer. “I think I’ve met this guy before.”

Ryan blinked. “You’ve met him?”

Shane hummed in thought. “I think? I’m not sure.” He put down the photo and shrugged. “It could be someone who looks similar. I’m sure Sara knew him, though.”

“She’ll tell you.” Ryan took his mug and brought it to his lips. “Right?”

Shane frowned and drummed his finger against the wood, thinking. He’d never seen Sara so shaken like that before. It worried him. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at length, “but, you know. Can’t force someone to talk if they don’t wanna.”

“I guess that’s true.”

They spent the next few minutes poring over the available information, with Shane musing over the sigils while wondering where he should begin researching them and Ryan considering possible supernatural influences that might be at play. They had settled into their usual working rhythm when someone slipped into the room. Shane looked up to see Sara, and she was looking white. She offered a smile at him when he sent her a questioning gaze, but it didn’t hide the tremble on her fingers and the wobble of her lips.

“You okay?” Shane asked softly once she sat by him.

“I’m fine,” she assured.

“You look pale, though,” Ryan commented. He slid the coffee he brought to her. “Here. It might make you feel better.”

Sara laughed shakily and took the mug. “Thanks. I’m sure this’ll taste better than my drawing. I need to practice more.”

“We can ask Rie in a few days or so,” Shane said. He watched intently as Sara took a sip of the coffee and seemed to melt into her seat, the paleness fading but still there. “Are you sure you’re okay? Talk to me.”

Sara laughed again, even more shakily, shriller this time. “I’m fine, really. It’s okay.”

“Sara,” Shane sighed with a displeased frown.

Sara just shook her head and straightened up in her seat. “So. What do we have here?”

* * *

 

A few days had passed since her slip in the map room, and things had been tense around Shane.

Sara hated it.

Normally, chatting with Shane was a breeze. It was fun, they poked fun at each other, and they loved spending time in each other’s company. Since the map room, though, the easy air they breathed around each other had been gone, replaced instead by heavy weights that pushed down their shoulders. Even the scent of old papers and burnt herbs in Shane’s clothes felt… tainted. Their touches felt forced and uninvitingly cold, instead of the comfortable warmth they shared before.

Even worse, Ryan had been trying to get them to talk again, to get rid of the hanging discomfort by telling jokes and baiting them to talk. None of it had been working, and Ryan had given up. What was left was sad, awkward silence, and the hanging feeling of guilt that draped itself around Sara’s shoulders.

Shane had tried to get her to talk, to have a conversation like people would, but Sara insisted she was fine and refused to answer any of the questions. When he tried to coax her to answer, she snapped. She knew she should at least try to respond positively, but she just… couldn’t. She felt awful, but she just couldn’t talk about this. It made Shane hesitant to talk to her, and _that_ made her hesitant to talk to Shane, and Sara had resolved that she would have to at least apologize but she wasn’t sure how to approach him just yet.

So this was how they found themselves sitting by themselves together in the map room, trying to work together but too awkward to even try to talk. Every once in a while, Ryan would perk up, look up and opened his mouth, but closed it again and sunk back into his work. Sara’s guilt doubled every time it happened.

“Sara,” Shane piped up, and Sara stiffened. “Have you gotten theories on how the killer might have approached the victim? Or where they got there from?”

“Uuuh. Maybe?” Sara glanced at Shane. He wasn’t looking at her. “I’m thinking it could be some sort of portal spell, but it’s kind of hard to confirm since there aren’t any CCTV cameras around.”

“Possibility of it _not_ being a portal spell?”

“Pretty big, but again, hard to confirm. I’m trying to see if our guy can be found in other CCTV feed from the vicinity.”

Shane just nodded as he flipped the page of the common ritualistic sigils he was reading. “Okay.”

Ryan, stuck in the middle, just looked back and forth between Sara and Shane like a dog watching a tennis game. He looked about as lost as a puppy being left alone at home for the first time, holding onto his reference book as if it could provide a spell to will away the awkwardness. It couldn’t; Sara knew for a fact no such spell existed.

The awkward silence was beginning to build once more, and this time it was even more uncomfortable than before. At least Sara could concentrate on the hours upon hours of footage she had been staring at for so long in her laptop before, but now she couldn’t even gather her thoughts enough to do that. She closed her eyes and drummed her fingers against the metallic casing of her laptop, taking in deep breath to gather her thoughts. Her mind was so loud. Her currently sorry state of relationship with Shane was just one of her problems. The fact that Nathan Fischer was killed was also a source of stress for her.

_Why was he killed? They checked the people he knew, he didn’t seem to have any enemy. Was it something else? Did it have anything to do with what happened eighteen years ago? Was she safe? Were_ any _of them safe?_

She scrunched up her nose and blinked hard, snatching her mug of coffee and downed it in one go to quiet her screaming thoughts. Her tongue burned. She didn’t care. When she took a deep breath to collect herself and looked up, she found Shane staring at her, but seemed hesitant to speak.

“I’m fine,” she assured. “Just… burned my tongue.”

“Be more careful next time,” Shane settled, voice soft. Sara swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

Before Sara could return to the security footages, the door was knocked and someone peeked in. It was the flat-faced bubblegum-pink-haired intern that usually hung around in felony department. For someone who usually displayed the emotional range of a piece of ice, she looked alarmingly disturbed.

“Hi, uh, Madison, right?” Ryan greeted. “Do you need anything?”

“It’s Mallory,” the intern corrected. “Um, a detective just came in and asked me to get you. Detective Jones-Zhang? They said, um. There’s been another murder.”

Shane leaned back in his seat. “Well. Fuck.”

Ryan threw him a frown and stood up. “Is Detective Jones-Zhang still here?”

“They’re at the reception area,” Mallory informed. “I was told to tell you to prepare for a car ride. They want to bring you to the crime scene.”

“I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting, then,” Ryan sighed.

“Thanks for the info, Mallory,” Sara said with a smile. The intern nodded and slipped back out.

When they got to the reception area, Sara couldn’t help but wince at how Morgan looked. They sported dark, dark circles around their sparkling black eyes that were nonexistent the first time they met. They had a paper cup full of steaming coffee, and they stared blankly at it.

“Detective Jones-Zhang?” Shane called.

The detective snapped to alert. They looked up at the three of them, and the blank stare was gone instantly. They blinked and offered a tired smile. “Hello.”

“We were told there’d been another murder,” Shane said.

Morgan’s smile fell. “Yes,” they sighed. “It’s actually just been called in. I haven’t seen the crime scene, myself. Since I was in the area, I figured I should get you. You’re the ones actually working on the case, after all.” They sighed again. “It’s difficult since the ones tasked with processing the scene is still the police department but the actual case is handled by a separate agency. The government really ought to change the system.” They straightened up. “We should go. I don’t think it’s wise to waste time chatting here.”

Ryan, Shane, and Sara ended up pooling together into Ryan’s car, following Morgan’s as they made their way through the city. The awkwardness had been replaced by a sense of urgency, but Sara knew it would return sooner or later. Murder might be a good distraction, but the problem between them wouldn’t disappear just like that. Sara decided right then and there that she needed to apologize to Shane, the sooner the better.

Morgan led them to the city park, parking their car a block away and leading them on foot. Ryan sprang out and caught up to Morgan immediately, clearly wanting to escape the heavy silence between Shane and Sara. Sara quickly took advantage of it, jogging closer to Shane and taking his hand in hers. He turned to her with question in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for lashing out,” she blurted hurryingly. Her words mashed together, but she didn’t think much of it. “I went out of line. You were just worried, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Shane blinked and offered a rueful smile. “I shouldn’t have pushed you, either.”

“No, I should’ve explained better that I really didn’t want to talk about it,” Sara insisted.

The smile adorning Shane’s face quirked wider into a grin. “Make popcorn for me the next time I go to your place, and we’re good?”

Sara mirrored his grin. “Alright.”

“Still, though,” Shane began as he looped his arm around her shoulder and began walking to catch up to Ryan and Morgan, “I’d prefer you to be comfortable to talk about things with me.”

“I’m comfortable,” Sara assured, “It’s just… this topic is a little bit…” she paused and sighed. “I’m just gonna say… please trust me with this. It’s okay. I just can’t talk about it. If there comes a day when I can talk to you about it and I’m ready to do it, I would.”

Shane hummed. Sara knew he wasn’t satisfied, but he was willing to accept it, so that was good enough. They walked briskly to the park entrance, where Morgan talked to a forensic specialist behind police line while Ryan grinned at them with unmasked relief.

“Thank god, I thought I’d have to lock you in a broom closet or something,” Ryan commented. “Come on.” His grin dropped a fraction. “This place is a lot colder than the previous crime scene, just so you know.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Sara asked. Cold usually meant a lot of spirits for Ryan.

“Yeah, the big ol’ ghost repellant is here,” Ryan answered, gesturing to Shane. “And I have salt in my pockets, just in case.”

Morgan approached them, and they turned their attention to them. Morgan looked even more tired than before, if it was even possible. They sighed and pointed at the park with their thumb. “So. The forensics are sure this is the same person as the last one. Same M.O, same sigils. It’s a woman this time.” They waved them over into the park, and as they walked Morgan spoke, “The body was found not too far away from the park gate. The CSI told me it’s not a pretty sight, but then again, the last one wasn’t pretty, either.”

“I don’t know, some people can be pretty fucked up with how creative they get,” Ryan muttered.

Morgan led them to a secluded part of the park relatively close to the entrance, where other personnel were working on the scene. Sara couldn’t help the hiss that escaped her lips.

The victim was a woman in her fifties, with dark skin and long hair in a braid. Her dark brown eyes were open in cold surprise, and her striking red lips made the whole ensemble look like a morbid renaissance painting. Her green blouse was marred with the brown of dried blood, but the grass underneath her was painted with glistening red. Someone had cut her blouse to take a closer look at her chest. Just like Fischer, she had a hole in her chest, but smaller this time. Sara could almost see the edges of a symbol tattooed into her skin, right where the killer had punched the hole in.

Around her were five black flat stones, with sigils painted on them with blood, arranged in a circle as if trapping her in. The sigils looked blaringly red, and Sara knew instantly that somehow, the ritual involved had etched the blood into the stone. The stones would forever bear the sigils.

Sara’s mind flashed to that night, when six that was supposed to be five came out as five that was supposed to be six. She remembered standing awkwardly, being the youngest amongst the six but for some reason brought in because of a magical skill she hadn’t even fully mastered yet. She remembered Zara Dube, eighteen years younger and _alive_ , smiling at her and holding her hand while saying, “We have almost the same name,” with her voice so thick with her accent Sara nearly couldn’t tell what she had been saying. She remembered laughing bashfully and smiling shyly when the kind lady with braided hair told her she liked her surname because it reminded her of rubies.

Nathan Fischer, then Zara Dube. Only two, but would there be more? Was she safe? Was she a target? Whatever lightness she had gained from finally being able to speak with Shane without flinching anymore had vanished, replaced instead by a heavy pit settling in her stomach.

“We found her ID earlier,” Morgan spoke up, and Sara nearly jumped out of her skin. “Her name is Zara Dube, an immigrant from India. We’re not sure about what she does for a living just yet, but we’ll find out soon enough.” They glanced around the premises and sighed. “I’ll leave you to do your thing now. I’ll have the documents sent to your place as soon as possible.”

“We really need to talk to someone about how this system is totally inefficient and need to be changed,” Shane deadpanned. Despite his tone and facial expression, he reached over to take Sara’s hand and squeezed gently. He knew she was shaken, apparently.

“I’ll file a complaint or something,” Morgan shrugged. “I hope there wouldn’t be anything anymore. Have a good day… I suppose.”

As soon as they were gone, Shane turned to Sara. “You okay?”

Sara nodded, a bit too fast to be considered normal. “Yeah, absolutely,” she insisted. When Shane levelled her a look, she sighed and asked, “Remember when I told you, I can’t tell you but I would if I could and ready for it? It’s like that again.”

Shane scowled. “Don’t make me worry too much, Sara.”

“I’ll try,” Sara shrugged. Absently, she probed around to find residual magic to clue them in on what truly happened. She was immediately hit with the aftertaste of drug-spells that made her head spin and various drawn lust spells. She could feel the faint, weak pokes of childish chalk-drawn spells children used when they first experimented with their newfound magic. Drawn magic was, after all, one of the most favored kind of spells children tend to get drawn to, though in time they usually moved on to verbal or written spells. Few truly had the drive and talent to use drawn spells all the time and use creative magic to bring life into a drawing the way Sara could.

Sara could also feel the portal magic she also felt in the previous crime scene, stronger this time. If there was any doubt that their killer had portal magic, it was gone now. Portal magic was involved, one way or another. With a frown, she drew back into herself.

“I don’t sense her spirit,” Ryan spoke up, burying his hands into his jacket’s pockets. He shuddered a little, but shook his head when Shane offered his hand. “It’s the same as before.”

“What kind of person eats another’s heart and spirit?” Shane asked with a frown, looking genuinely disgusted.

“Someone really, really desperate?” Ryan pointed out.

“Maybe we’re not even dealing with a person at all,” Sara pointed out jokingly.

The three of them paused, looking at each other with eyes wide and lips set, before Ryan broke the silence with a nervous chuckle. Shane soon followed, and a giggle escaped Sara before she could stop it.

“Nah, what are the odds?” Ryan asked between chuckles. It didn’t really help the nervousness that had taken over Sara’s mind. She knew it didn’t really help with the boys, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter's longer than the first one. idk if this is a good thing or not.
> 
> anyway, today on I Have No Idea How Police Procedures Work And I've Decided To Make Things Up Because This AU Is Kinda Bizarre And I Do What I Want. Basically, the CSI still process the crime scenes, but the actual detective work is given to a separate, (usually) private or corporate detective agency. this is only true for paranormal cases though. the police works only on non-paranormal cases for the most part.


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t see any similarities between these two.”

Ryan knocked the table loudly at Shane’s declaration. “Right?!” he exclaimed. “Like, what even is the link between these two? The only thing I can think of is that they both are really spiritually strong, but there are loads of spiritually strong people out there.”

“Yeah, it’s really strange,” Shane mused, tapping his pen against the desk. “Don’t serial killers usually have a type or something? Or is that a movie thing?”

“I mean, the ritual aspect is to literally rip the victims’ hearts out and putting the body inside a pentagram,” Ryan pointed out. “I don’t think we have the luxury to think if victim type is just a movie thing. This dude’s crazy enough to do weirder shit.”

Sara hummed in thought. “Maybe we just need to dig deeper. What’s Dube’s background again?”

“Um,” Shane rummaged with some papers and began reading, “Zara Dube, fifty two, an immigrant from India. She came here in 1978, so that means she was… twelve, I think, when she got here?” He glanced around for confirmation, but both Sara and Ryan just shrugged, too lazy to actually do the math themselves. “Okay, so she moved states until she married in ’92, when she and her husband settled in L.A.” His brow shot up. “Huh. That’s convenient for our investigations. She was a housewife, but she was a spiritually strong person and often helps out in séances, summonings, that sort of thing.”

“That’s the thing that got her killed, isn’t it?” Ryan piped up. “At least, partly.”

“I guess?” Shane shrugged. “Her husband died in ’96 in a car accident, though. She never remarried. And then, in late 2000 – as in, like the later months of the year, not like, 2010 or something – she suddenly stopped helping out in spiritual stuff. It’s only after 2009 that she started again, but even then sessions are few and far between.”

Ryan frowned, thinking. “Late 2000? When did Fischer went back to Nathan Fischer from Nate? Is it early 2001?”

Shane hummed and checked the papers, but Sara beat him to it with a quick but decisive “Yes.”

Ryan’s frown deepened. “It seems like a stretch, but they both changed something around that time. Did something involving them both happen?”

“Well, they were both in L.A around that time period,” Sara pointed out. “We definitely need to do more digging to confirm it, but I think it might be possible that something happened.”

“Spiritual stuff, probably,” Shane murmured. “Name changing and spiritually inclined working habit changing, those are both indicators of something spiritual happening.”

“Alright, so,” Ryan reached for a marker and looked around, and suddenly felt lost. “Um…”

“We can bring your board from conspiracy HQ here later,” Shane said, as if he could read Ryan’s mind. “For now, just use paper.”

“Right, that works too.” Following Shane’s advice, Ryan rummaged for a blank sheet of paper.

“Yeah, I was just starting to wonder why we don’t have a giant conspiracy board around,” Sara mused, twirling her pen. “That’s how Ryan does his thing, right? Conspiracy board to see everything?”

“It’s mostly for aesthetics, really,” Ryan piped up. “It _does_ help. I just like the looks more.” He pulled a single sheet of blank paper from the pile of ones already written on and typed in and scribbled the notes they had just made. He would reorganize everything on the board later; he saw no point on making thing comprehensive on the list. “We’re checking if they knew each other, right? And some common link or some shit? Do we need to interview people?”

“Hopefully not, I’ve spent too much time reviewing cold case files I don’t even remember how to interview people in this sort of setting,” Shane admitted. He sipped his coffee loudly.

“Let’s just stick to on-paper and online data until we have to talk to people, then,” Sara shrugged. “They probably both have Facebook account. We can check for mutual friends or something.”

Ryan and Shane exchanged glances. “That’s a start,” Ryan said.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, nodding.

“Do you think this probable incident involving them both is something big?” Ryan asked, eyeing both Shane and Sara. “Because if it is I might try to cross reference some news articles.”

“I mean, that’s possible,” Shane answered with a shrug. “But I think, rather than wading through hundreds of news article you should probably stick with a common link or something for now and go to the news after we find something suspicious.”

Ryan sighed. “Yeah, fair.” He reached for the case files, though his mind buzzed with what noteworthy events he could remember from the early 2000s. Frankly, he was drawing a blank. He wasn’t sure if it was because early 2000s was just that uneventful or if it was because his 10-ish year old self was just plain ignorant about things around him. There wasn’t much Ryan could remember about being a child. He only remembered being afraid practically all the time. Granted, he was at war with his own ability to communicate with spirits and become a temporary host for them. He only really started to detach himself from the fear in his mid to late teens, and only started to feel completely safe once he knew Shane.

The funny thing was, he wasn’t even _exactly_ safe. Even if he was supposed to deal with cold cases, being a paranormal detective wasn’t really the safest job around. Sometimes he wondered just how he ended up working as a paranormal detective when he had a degree on filmmaking.

His line of thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone rapping on the door. When he looked up, he burst out laughing, and his laughter was soon joined by Shane’s and Sara’s.

“What the fuck, dude?” Ryan managed to speak between wheezes.

From behind the door, Andrew fixed them an exasperated look, sighing. Ryan remembered Steven telling them about Andrew and Adam turning green, but he didn’t expect the bright Kermit green that colored Andrew’s skin.

“Is Adam as green as you?” Shane sputtered. He wheezed for breath before he laughed again.

Andrew sighed again. He looked like a part of his soul left him when he admitted, “He’s kind of a darker green color.” The answer triggered another bout of giggles, and Andrew stared at them with an impressively deadpan look. “Look, if you’re done, I kind of need a hand with my case investigation.”

“Okay, okay,” Shane said, taking in deep breath to stop the laugh. When he looked up and caught the green on Andrew’s skin, he curled into himself and giggled again.

“What – what do you need h-help with?” Ryan managed to say. The laughter was finally dying down, but there were still spills of giggles every now and then.

“I kind of need you to either talk to a spirit or to host them.”

 _That_ stopped the laugh. Before, seeing Andrew was kind of a funny thing Ryan could see the humor of. Now he kind of just think of him as some sort of hairless Grinch, who didn’t steal Christmas but made sure things turned sour in any way possible.

“I know you don’t like it, but we couldn’t think of anything else to do,” Andrew explained with an apologetic tone. “If you don’t want to do it, I understand.”

Ryan took a moment to think before answering, “No, it’s fine. I’ll help you.”

“You sure?” Andrew asked again. “Because you don’t have to.”

“I’m sure,” Ryan nodded. He pointed at Shane. “Just bring this big guy along, just in case things go south.”

“I can help,” Sara piped up. “I can draw a safety pentagram if you need one, or things to tie Ryan up with if things _do_ go south.”

“That would be appreciated, actually,” Ryan admitted. He gulped nervously and flexed his fingers.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Andrew said, cracking a smile at long last. “We’ll treat you to lunch later, I promise.”

As the four of them walked to the larceny department, they passed several of their coworkers, all of them looking like they were either trying to keep from laughing or were just outright laughing. Andrew simply fixed them a withered look and gave a halfhearted wave as he explained the case to the group.

“So basically, we were asked to help with this chalice a collector got from an auction,” Andrew began as he gave another wave to Niki, who had looked at him and paused in her tracks before doubling over wheezing, yelling _Andrew what the fuck_. “It’s a real precious item. Gold stand, lots of engravings, could be traced back to medieval times – that collector was really happy with it, and for good reasons. The problem is that he got the chalice, but he can’t put it around his collection because it started to act up.”

“Act up how?” Shane asked.

“It moved by itself, mostly,” Andrew answered with a shrug. “It’s not uncommon for objects to develop a personality of its own. Furthermore, that chalice is old. I’ve seen a vintage Japanese fan that only sits still next to this string musical instrument that sometimes plays on its own. Otherwise the fan would try to blow things around it away.”

“Are you sure that fan isn’t just haunted?” Ryan questioned in disbelief.

“It’s not haunted,” Andrew replied decisively. “I can tell. The memories stored within the object would be different. The _feel_ would be different.”

Ryan blinked and shrugged. “Well, you’re the antiques guy.”

“Anyway, the chalice would also affect the general mood of the room if left for too long, and eventually other antiques would act up, too,” Andrew continued. “Steven and I actually saw the security footage of it. Lots of antiques falling and rattling. It was a mess. Some of them got damaged. And, you know, the owner wasn’t happy, because restoration takes money. He really wants to keep the chalice, but he wants us to make sure it wouldn’t act up again. If we can’t do anything about it, he’ll have to put it in those museums for haunted objects.” His face turned sour. “I’d really like for him to _not_ do that. Those museums are the worst.”

Sara hopped forward at that. “What? Why?”

“It’s like locking a bunch of scared puppies in a room and calling it a day,” Andrew explained, “except the puppies can’t move or make noise.”

All three of them grimaced at the analogy.

Andrew just shrugged. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure this chalice is haunted. I’m hoping you can persuade the spirit to leave the chalice be or let me and Steven talk to them through you. I really hope it doesn’t come to that, but… just in case.” He paused just outside the door to the larceny department’s room. “Steven’s inside, monitoring the chalice. Apparently it acts up more when I’m not around, so I can’t guarantee how messy inside would be.”

Ryan had just wanted to ask why Steven was inside instead of Andrew when Andrew pushed the door open, and immediately chills climbed up his spine, halting the words while he let a shudder pass through him. Aside from the undeniable cold that only came with the dead, he could also see the white-blue outline of a spectral lady, who was floating just above a golden chalice in the middle of the room, sobbing. The air was heavy with the ghost’s presence, and immediately Ryan felt warmth leeching off his fingertips.

By the chalice, Steven sat on a reclined chair with his foot propped up on two stacked pillows on top of a stool. It was wrapped in cast.

“Steven, what happened to your foot?” Sara asked, both curious and sympathetic.

Steven simply levelled a glare at the chalice. “That cup hates me,” he answered, but didn’t elaborate.

Ryan stared at the ghost. “I don’t know about that. The cup is haunted. That ghost is upset. She’s crying. She might have done something unintentionally. Or maybe it was intentional. Who knows.”

“Can you talk to her?” Steven asked. “We kind of need this case to be over quick. We’re actually doing another case, but the higher ups want us to prioritize this one because of the pay.”

“I don’t know, she hasn’t noticed me yet,” Ryan muttered. “I’ll try.” He slowly walked to the ghost’s line of vision, but she still wasn’t looking. He peered at her, noting her medieval dress. “Hello? Miss?” He reached out to tap her hand.

She jerked in surprise at the contact. She blinked at him and started babbling in a language he couldn’t understand, and he grimaced, shaking his head. She stopped and stared, tearing up once more.

Ryan clicked his tongue. “No good. I can’t understand her. I’ll have to host her.”

“Is there even a guarantee we will understand her?” Andrew asked immediately.

“I mean, you should if she’s in me,” Ryan answered with a shrug. “It’s this weird thing that kind of just happens. Spirits, no matter from where or when, tend to speak with whatever mother language their hosts have. I don’t know why, but it’s convenient, so.”

Andrew exchanged a glance with Steven, who darted his gaze to the chalice before nodding quickly. He turned back to Ryan and nodded. “Okay. If there’s anything you need, tell me.”

Ryan turned to Shane and Sara. “Alright then. If anything happen, whack me upside the head.”

Sara grinned and gave thumbs up, though there was a touch of nervousness in her smile. Shane simply nodded and cracked his knuckles.

Ryan turned back to the ghost, who was watching him keenly. He took a deep breath and offered his hand to the ghost lady, plastering a nervous smile onto his face. “I invite you in,” he declared.

The ghost’s eyes widened. Almost giddily, she took Ryan’s hand, and cold rushed to his face. Almost with a dancer’s grace, she stood and spun, still holding his hand, before letting herself fall backwards into his chest. Ryan didn’t bother trying to catch her, and instead letting the spirit plunge into him. Immediately, midwinter river rush over his bones and spread frost over his core, and darkness spread across his vision. When he blinked and staggered, he realized the ghost had taken over, and he was pushed back to watch from deep within his own mind.

“I’m back,” he felt himself say, heard himself say. His voice was softer and higher pitched than usual. “I’m… back.”

Not for the first time, fear and panic rushed through him. He could feel, hear, see everything a spirit within him was doing, but he could do nothing about it. The loss of control felt unnatural, and this was when he _let_ them in. At least when he regained control, he wouldn’t be so drained.

He felt himself looking around, and he struggled to make sense of his sight beyond the cloud of darkness that hung about _his_ vision. He could recognize Sara, who took a pen out of her pocket and began drawing on her palm, and Shane, who hovered far enough away that he couldn’t feel the warmth and life Shane had in spades. With the dead inhabiting him, Shane’s warmth would feel a whole lot stronger. There was a spike of annoyance from the spirit that bled into him when he caught sight of Steven, and a spike of amusement when he saw Andrew, still in the glory of the green his skin sported.

“Hello?” Andrew asked, inching forward. “Can you understand me?”

The spirit snapped her attention to him. “Yes,” she answered, and Ryan could feel her wonder at the sound of his voice.

“Right,” Andrew breathed. There was surprise in his eyes. He shared a quick glance with Steven, then asked, “Well, um. Are you aware that you have been haunting this chalice?” He gestured to the chalice in question.

“Oh,” her voice dropped. She glared at the chalice in disdain, inching back in a motion that Ryan felt completely alien about. “Yes, I am aware. But I didn’t haunt that chalice. I’ve been trapped.”

“Trapped?” Steven repeated. The spirit turned sharply at him, and he jolted in his seat.

“Yes, trapped,” the spirit confirmed. “Don’t touch the chalice with your bare hand. It’ll tie your soul to it the moment it leaves your body.”

Steven stared at the chalice and sighed. “Thank god for gloves.”

“Is there any way to pull you off of the chalice? Because our client wants this to be in his collection and apparently you – no offense – make it hard to work with,” Andrew said.

“I’m already off!” the spirit answered, almost giddy. “Inhabiting a medium broke the curse. I never knew it was so simple!”

Shane shifted. “That’s great. Now that the curse is off, maybe you can go to the afterlife.” He reached out to Sara. She reached back with her painted palm and squeezed his hand. Was there a faint flare of her subtle magic there?

“What?” the spirit asked, surprise evident in her borrowed voice. “But I just got back. I spent so much time being dead and miserable, and I just got to be alive again!” She paused, and Ryan felt her moving, felt her touching his lips, his throat, his chest. “I’m alive again. I’m not dead anymore.” Her touch lingered before she pulled her hands and stared at them. “I can stay.”

“No, you really can’t,” Shane shook his head. “You’re already dead. This isn’t your place.”

“But I just got back!” the spirit protested. “I died an untimely death. Just for a day, please – “

“No,” Shane cut in. “I’m not giving you any leeway. The longer you stay, the longer my friend has to host you, and that means you’re leeching off his life energy. Please leave.”

The spirit’s gaze darted around, and Ryan caught sight of Sara sketching in her tiny notebook. He’d never seen her draw so quickly before. She flipped pages and started another sketch much faster than Ryan thought was possible.

The spirit bolted to the door, nimbly escaping Shane’s outstretched hand even though she was clumsy with her movements, both unused to a new body she’d never inhabited before and unused to _having_ a body. However, Andrew seized her by the arm, and Ryan felt a gasp that was as much his as it was the spirit’s when he felt himself being yanked back.

“Please!” the spirit pleaded. “I just got back, I can’t just die again!”

The cold intensified tenfold. The soft layer of darkness that covered Ryan’s sight thickened, slowly overtaking his vision until there were only specks of light he could see. The sounds around him muffled, as if cotton was stuffing his ears.

The spirit took over, and Ryan _drowned_.

* * *

 

When the specks of dark brown of Ryan’s eyes vanished into olive green that had begun to dominate the man’s eyes the moment the spirit gained entry, Shane cursed loudly and dashed ahead. His hand tingled with the active magic of Sara’s transferred drawn sigil, and he reached ahead to transfer it to Ryan. The spirit winced and pulled back.

Shane didn’t let her. He tackled her and she fell on her butt, and Shane quickly pressed her to the floor. The tingle of Sara’s magic intensified as he pressed his palm to Ryan’s forehead. The spirit gasped in pain.

“I’m giving you one last chance to get out and move on,” Shane hissed lowly, “otherwise this will be uncomfortable for everyone involved.”

The spirit’s olive green eyes flicked about in panic, and Shane had to suppress a wince. It was so alien, to see green in place of Ryan’s usual dark brown. Even the usual burnt sage that permeated Ryan’s clothes smelled sour, rotten, somehow. It was obvious by now that she had no intention of exiting Ryan’s body on her own volition, though. Sara obviously knew this, and had flitted about them like a busy hummingbird, ripping papers off her plain notebook and revealing the sigils she had drawn on each. She placed each sigil around the spirit, like a pentagram.

“Out, now!” she barked, and Shane jumped to the side. Sara’s magic in his palm vanished as the sigil imprinted onto Ryan’s skin. The drawn papers curled into themselves as they heat up and caught fire. The spirit in Ryan’s body screamed, but it was abruptly cut off as the banishment effectively kicked her out of the temporary vessel Ryan provided. As the papers turned to dust that vanished into the air, Ryan opened his eyes – the normal dark brown this time – and groaned loudly.

“I hate when they do that,” he grumbled. He pointed at Andrew, almost growling, “You better make good on that lunch you promised.”

“Of course,” Andrew answered breathily. He was still staring at the burnt marks of the papers.

“This… this is about lunch time, what about we order some takeout to start with?” Steven asked, his voice higher than usual and speech speed about twice as fast. “Cause, uh, I’d go to some fancy restaurant or something but my foot isn’t really going to make it easy to move.”

“Oh, takeout works,” Ryan lightly answered. “Also, don’t ask for favors like this again, maybe. I’ve never made a ghost before, but I’ve always wondered if I could.”

“Are you threatening to kill us?” Steven blurted with a nervous half-laugh. The deadpan look Ryan threw him shut him up, and he gulped when Ryan shrugged as though he hadn’t quite decided yet.

“You probably could make a ghost,” Shane said, finally deciding to goad Ryan. He ignored the amused-but-exasperated look Sara threw him. “You killed Andrew when you played Sims with Kelsey.”

“I’m sorry, but you did what to me?”

Ryan ignored Andrew’s question to shrug again at Shane. “That’s a game, though. Not real life. Can I actually make a ghost in real life?”

“I dunno, but give me a call if you need help to hide a dead body,” Shane grinned playfully.

Andrew interrupted with a loud, “Okay! I’m going to call the takeout place now! If no one tells me what they want to eat I’m just going to get fried rice for everyone!”

Sara whipped around to look at him so quickly Shane worried she got herself a whiplash, almost yelling, “Wait, no! I don’t want the fried rice!”

Moments later, they found themselves in the overly large break area, where others had been lounging and eating their lunch. Many of them stopped by to ask about the green that colored Andrew’s skin, and when Adam joined them later with even deeper green in his skin Shane had almost choked on his stir fry. Ryan outright howled with laughter while Sara, poor her, actually choked on the water she was drinking. When her coughs subsided, she gasped on the air she was breathing and laughed wheezingly.

Unlike Andrew, Adam seemed to have accepted his fate to walk around as a man in toad color, and easily grinned in amusement at his coworkers’ reaction. “Would you believe me if I told you this has faded somewhat?” he asked, voice soft as ever, but there was a vibrating buried laugh somewhere at the back of his throat.

“Wait, for real?” Ryan cut in. His eyes were beginning to water with the laughter that he’d been churning out. “How is that possible? You’re so green!”

“The potency of Rie’s cooking magic is beyond belief,” Andrew deadpanned. He wriggled his green fingers and waggled his brows to emphasize the effects of Rie’s magic. He still looked somewhat upset with it, but at least he was beginning to find humor in it. It sent Ryan and Sara into another bout of laughter, and Shane somehow managed to keep the laughter from escaping his lips but couldn’t help the giant grin that overtook them.

“Anyway, enough of the green duo here,” Steven cut in, and he smiled proudly when Shane wheezed a soft _green duo_ under his breath. “I heard you guys were handling a pretty big case?”

“ _Enormous_ , if what I heard from hearsay in the agency is right,” Andrew added. He swatted Adam’s hand when he tried to steal a bite from Andrew’s food.

“I mean, yeah, it’s big,” Sara answered. She took a pen and drew a fork at the back of her hand, pulling it out, and handed it to Adam who murmured a quick thanks and proceeded to prod at Andrew and Steven’s food. “Serial ritual killing is big.”

“Throw us some clues, maybe we can help,” Steven said with a grin. “You scratch our backs we scratch yours, right?”

“What about the sigils?” Andrew piped in. He pushed a small piece of shrimp to Adam, who happily stabbed and ate it. “I know a thing or two about them. I could help.”

“I can cross-reference with older cases and news articles too, if you need,” Adam offered.

“Right, about the sigils thing,” Shane took out his phone and browsed his gallery. He slid the phone to Andrew. “I can’t really tell what these sigils do. These almost look like sigils for banishment, but also sealing?”

Andrew looked them over. “Yeah, I think this is sort of some weird fusion of the two, but they’re just really basic sigils. I guess either the person who drew this want to conceal their identity, or they haven’t studied drawn magic enough to design their own sigils. With homicide cases, it’s usually the former.”

“Wait, what? Designing sigils?” Shane interrupted. “Is that a common thing to do with mages who use drawn spells?”

“Yes?” Andrew quirked a brow at him. “You didn’t know?”

“Shane, I literally designed some of my sigils right in front of you,” Sara pointed out in exasperation. “I mean, I never said why or anything, but _I did it in front of you_.”

“I’ll be honest here, and I apologize,” Shane couldn’t help the sheepish smile that overtook his lips, “but I truly, genuinely thought you were just trying to be cool.”

“I _am_ cool,” Sara rolled her eyes. She paused, then added, “I think. Anyway, when you design your own sigils, the sigil is _yours_. That makes the spell stronger. So, yeah, designing sigils is actually a common practice.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know,” Andrew mused. “I thought it would come up in at least one of your investigations.”

“Every time I check the sigils used in a case we’re investigating, it’s always the same,” Shane shrugged. “So I kind of just… assumed. It’s a bad move on my part, I admit. Can you tell me what’s the whole designing sigils thing is about?”

“Basically, every mage who use drawn spell, particularly ones using sigils, design their own sigils,” Sara explained. “It makes difference. The spells last longer, for starters. They’re usually not easily breakable, too.”

“There are some basic ones that everyone learn about when they start learning drawn magic, though,” Andrew added. “I don’t think anyone knew who actually made those. Some old dude with long beard, probably. But that’s the sigils people use to learn, first, right? They keep using that if they don’t feel the need to design their own, or if the person in question don’t usually use drawn magic but happen to need some sigils. Since everyone knows it, that’s what people usually use when they commit crimes.”

“That, or they use their own design for one reason or another,” Sara agreed. “I think I’ve heard of someone who designed an entirely new set of sigils just to commit murder. Now _that’s_ dedication.”

“Was it hard, designing your own sigils?” Steven chimed in. There was genuine curiosity in his eyes.

“Yes and no?” Sara tilted her head in thought. “It was tricky, for sure. Teenage me was stubborn, though, and I ended up with a pretty decent set, so that’s what I’ve been using.” Sara waved her chopsticks in the air like she was drawing, and knowing her, she probably was. “I mean, little me was a real handful. I could draw, like, a cat and weird cartoonish cat with too-big head could come out of the paper. My parents helped me learn the basic sigils by the time I was like five, which is pretty early, as far as magic trainings go. But that meant I was releasing magic through the training and sigils, so I don’t create abominations I can’t control anymore.”

“You still draw weird animals and bring them to life, though,” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but I can control them. Also, they look way better.” Sara pushed her food around. “Just imagine a big, big cat with big head and bulging eyes running around trying to eat you. That was what happened.”

Shane had heard the story before, so he could get away with just a grimace. The others winced in a mix of horror and sympathy.

“Anyway, I started tweaking the basic sigils pretty early on, like around nine.” Sara rolled her shoulder and popped a piece of chicken into her mouth. “I used a lot of sigils I made up on the spot and never used again, but I only ended up with a fixed set of my own sigils when I was like… sixteen. I sometimes still design one or two, but they’re usually ones that are really obscure and don’t get used much, or the mix of a few sigils I already have so I don’t have to draw a lot.”

“Wait, you started tweaking sigils around nine year old, but only got your fixed set around sixteen?” Ryan leaned in, eyes wide in surprise. “That’s a really long time!”

Sara shrugged. “That’s just how it is. Some people never even end up having their fixed set, they just keep tweaking the basic sigils. I just happened to end up having a set that I feel is mine. That’s not really a rare thing, but it’s not exactly common, either.”

 “Some people share their sigils online, though, right?” Steven took his phone, did a quick image search, and nudged his phone to Sara. “Like these ones?” The sigils that he was showing were made from a lot of angular shapes among circles, like series of triangles inside a circle or interconnected lines within a diamond. They looked nothing like the basic sigils that almost look like pentagrams with different variations of it, but there were enough similarities between the two to be called sigils.

“Yeah, I know this mage,” Sara nodded. “He makes a lot of sigils and he invites people to use it. He believes his sigils will grow stronger the more people use it, so mages who don’t usually use sigils sometimes use his, or some sigils people designed and put online.”

“Yours look nothing like his,” Shane commented.

“Yeah, everyone’s approach to making sigils is different,” Sara agreed.

Shane picked Sara’s notebook, in which he knew Sara had drawn some of her protective sigils to protect the book from prying eyes and being lost. He stared at the sigils she had on the notebook, frowned, and took a look at the sigils left at the crime scene.

Ryan, who had been looking over his shoulder all the while, voiced the thought that had circled around Shane’s head before Shane even opened his mouth. “That’s strange,” Ryan mused, “the sigils at the crime scene looks similar to yours.”

Sara lifted a brow as she angled herself to face Ryan. “I guess that happens sometimes with some sigils?”

“No, I mean. This is like when you look at someone’s portfolio and saw something they draw like ten years ago.” Ryan squinted his eyes at the sigils at the notebook, comparing it to the sigils drawn in blood. “Yeah, it almost looks like you drew this.”

Shane drew one of the sigils with his index finger on the table. He wasn’t a mage, nothing he drew would ever spark magic, but the motion calmed him. “It’s just so similar, Sara. We’re not accusing you, but you _do_ realize this is odd.”

“I know, but that’s not – “ Sara stopped herself. She stared at her own sigils, then at the sigils at the crime scene, then back again at her own. Her brows knitted together. “Hmmm…?”

“That doesn’t sound like a reassuring hum,” Andrew commented softly. It sounded almost as deadpan as usual, but there was an almost quiet tremor in his voice.

“I mean, I dunno,” Sara shook her head and pushed Shane’s phone back into Shane’s fingers. “It’s just that… I _did_ make a lot of sigils on the spot when I was a kid and never use again. Some of them were on paper or drawn at the roads using chalks or something. I don’t remember ever designing this one, but it’s possible that I did and forgot. If I happened to discard it somewhere and someone saw it…” Her finger traced lines onto her palm, and she pursed her lips.

The look in her eyes gave Shane pause. Was there more to it than just simply forgetting?

“You know, I wondered at first why Sara was assigned with you two with this case, before,” Steven commented quietly. “I guess this is why.”

“Maybe,” Sara responded. Shane noted that it was neither an agreement nor a denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone's wondering, andrew's ability is basically psychometry. except in this fictional world old enough objects could develop personality, so it's almost like he could converse with antiques. adam doesn't really have any ability, but he's exceptionally receptive to others' magic.


	4. Chapter 4

When Shane received a call from Morgan and responded to the news they brought with a single “fuck”, Sara had a feeling they would have to see another crime scene.

They did have to see another crime scene. Sara just didn’t expect to see one right in a prison designed specifically to keep spiritual being, mages, and anything that had anything to do with rituals and spells inside the building or out of its bounds.

Mandrake Max Security Prison was one of the best prisons in the States, created specifically to keep criminals who had committed paranormal-related crimes inside its walls. Ritual killers and dark mages were kept inside under more than just lock and key. They bore tattoos of sealing sigils on their skin, to keep them from using their abilities to harm others or to escape. Lines among lines of sigils Sara couldn’t even guess the meanings of lined the walls, floors, and gates, but she could tell that she was lucky she was there as a visitor, not as a permanent fixture of the location. Wards, invisible to the eyes of anyone except for those with the gifted sight, stood like fences outside of the prison’s actual brick walls and barbed wires fences. If, in the off chance someone actually managed to get out of the prison, they would find themselves stranded in the middle of hot desert, miles and miles away from the closest civilization. It was almost enough of a reason to stay inside the prison, if only to keep close to a promise of basic necessities and the smallest bit of comfort a prison cot could offer someone.

Sara had shuddered violently when she passed the wards. Her magic, it seemed, had been recognized as potentially dangerous. Ryan, too, had shuddered and sharply inhaled in surprise. Even Shane squirmed uncomfortably. The only one not affected by the heavy security was Morgan, who happily walked past layer upon layer of security without any outward sign of unease.

“It’s surreal that someone actually managed to get in here and kill someone,” Ryan commented weakly. “What sort of crazy stupid strong person can do this?”

“It seems like an impossible thing to do,” Sara added. She eyed the sigils along the walls. They weren’t hers and she couldn’t know their meanings for sure, but the crawling _nope_ that climbed up her throat gave her some ideas.

“Was it really that bad?” Morgan asked. They were genuinely curious, and there was something approaching troubled in their eyes. “I don’t feel anything. Then again, I have no ability whatsoever.”

“I think it really depends on how strong your abilities are,” Sara pointed out, “so it’s really not surprising if you don’t feel anything.”

Morgan turned to Shane. Even without saying anything, their burning question was almost touchable.

Shane offered them a weak smile. “Ghosts run away from me. I guess that counts.”

“Ah.” Morgan nodded. “It does count. The police department has a similar barrier. We bring in a lot of people. Ones who drive away ghosts are rare, but they’re affected all the same.” Their eyes swept around the guest area of the prison. As they took their phone and typed a text, they spoke, “The warden told me to tell him when we arrived. He said to come to his office – it’s by the common area and the guest area. Come on.”

Morgan led them through pristine corridors lined with sigils, past the common areas secured with bars and more sigils running up and down the metal and frames. As they walked past, Ryan looked around as if searching. When Shane brought it up, Ryan took a deep breath and shook his head.

“I mean… I dunno,” he sighed. “It’s just… I don’t really like ghosts, but it’s just so weird to see no dead person around, like, at all. Usually there’s at least one in a corner somewhere. This place is just so… spiritually sterile.”

“Well,” a new, deep voice rumbled, “that would be the excellent spells we have around here.”

Sara turned, and immediately she saw who must be the prison warden. He had bushy mustache that reminded her of Ron Swanson from Parks and Recreation, but with an almost fatherly smile. Said smile was currently oozing with pride.

“They’re all very strong spells, I presume,” Shane commented casually.

“Of course. Only the best spells are used around here,” the warden nodded. “Sometimes, even the best spells don’t even stop catastrophes we try to avoid, so I can’t even imagine the sort of problems using less than perfect spells would entail.” He offered his hand to Shane, as he was the closest. “Howard Connelly. I’m the warden here.” After Shane murmured his name and Howard had had Sara and Ryan introduced to them, the warmth in his eyes hardened and he gestured. “Well. Might as well get to business as soon as possible. Come, follow me.”

They went deeper into the prison, and with each metal door they passed Sara could feel the magic of the place getting stronger. She could tell that this was supposed to be the more secure area of the prison, keeping hold and keeping out something strong and dangerous with fortified spells and walls alike. Even she could glimpse the meaning of the obscure sigils running through the walls, finding enough similarities to basic sigils and other symbols to know _bind_ , _silence_ , _magicless_ , and the surprising emergence of something that screamed _kill if necessary_ slipping quickly by that she wondered if she had read the sigil correctly. By the time they reached the cell block they were headed to, the choking, suffocating network of spells was so strong Sara could feel the tingling heat of painted magic at her back. She licked her lips and tried to ignore it the best she could.

The cell block was pristine, empty except for a single cell in the very middle of the block. It was guarded by two personnel. Howard casually shooed them away as they entered the cell, and Sara couldn’t help the frown that immediately overtook her face. If she thought the spell around the cell block was bad, the one in the actual cell was worse. It was getting harder to breathe.

“Is it even humane to keep spells this strong?” Ryan spoke up. He sounded a little choked up. “It’s… highly uncomfortable.”

“Cells here are designed for individual prisoner,” Howard explained. “Anyone who isn’t supposed to be there would feel uncomfortable, even prison guards. The actual prisoner who live in the cell would feel just fine, but would have no way to access their magic.”

“Good for them,” Sara commented hoarsely. Shane reached to hold her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back, mollified by the comfort he offered.

There was a body outline at the floor of the cell, which was big enough to contain a single bed, a work desk and a chair, and a toilet at the back, closed by a chest-high wall to provide a semblance of privacy. She stared at the outline, wondering where the body was, studying the pentagram and sigils that was drawn with blood around the outline.

“We had the body moved before you came here,” Howard explained. “High security prison, you know. Some of our prisoners might be crazy enough to get around and take the body for some… questionable deeds. We have a few necromancers around.”

Sara and Shane both only nodded in understanding, but Ryan grimaced uncomfortably. He schooled the expression before Howard or Morgan caught sight of it.

“Here are some photos we took,” Howard handed them a manila folder. “We still have no idea how the killer even managed to get in here.”

“We think the killer might be able to use portal magic,” Shane explained as Ryan opened the folder and took out the photos, holding it for the three of them to see. “Although I’m not sure how they would be able to break through the security spells around.”

Sara stared at the photos intently, and somehow managed to stifle a gasp. The man in the photograph stared back into her with dead eyes, his shirt torn to expose his chest. She could see a symbol drawn into the left side of his broad chest, over his heart, and there was clearly something – a wound, etched into the skin so that the symbol was crossed over. It was deep enough to draw blood, but there was merely a trickle.

“What about the heart?” Ryan asked.

“Also gone,” Morgan answered. “It’s like it just vanished from his chest. What’s weird is that there is no outward sign of it ever being taken. We think it might be the portal magic at play.”

“You know, it just occurred to me that we don’t know who this is,” Shane mused.

Howard turned to Morgan. “You didn’t brief them?”

Morgan winced. “I… might have forgotten.”

“We didn’t remember either,” Sara cut in immediately. “Really, we’re also at fault here.”

“That may be so, but you should’ve briefed them properly,” Howard told Morgan. “I’ll keep it silent from the higher ups, but you need to be more thorough, kid.”

Morgan hung their head and sighed. “Yes, sir.” They straightened up and began talking, “The victim’s name is Ricky Goldsworth. He’d been imprisoned for serial murder since early 2001, after his trials ended in January.”

Ryan blinked. “I think I know that name,” he said, and Sara tensed. “I don’t know why, but he sounds familiar.”

“He should be,” Howard chimed in. “His crime was all over the news back then. You must have been very young then, but if you watched TV you should have heard of him. He killed at least ten people by taking over their bodies and made them commit suicide.”

Shane recoiled as though slapped. “That sounds _vile_ ,” he commented. “But then… how’d he take over people’s bodies when he was still alive?”

“He was able to astral project,” Sara said before she could stop herself. When all eyes were staring at her, she fought the urge to shrink and instead squared her shoulders. “I remember that detail. He would abandon his body and kill as a wandering soul.”

“That’s correct,” Howard said with a nod. “That was why it was so hard to get him. He kept alluding people and spells, and as a wandering soul he happened to be a lot stronger than the average spirits. Maybe he was just plain stronger than other people, period.”

“No one was able to catch him, that was the fact,” Morgan added. “The only one who got close, according to the records, was a private investigator named C.C. Tinsley. Just him.”

Shane stared in interest. “Is he around? Can we interview him for info?”

Morgan shook their head ruefully. “He went missing, years ago. Records say Goldsworth was the last person to see him, and he refused to say anything about it.”

“Goldsworth testified that Tinsley was the one who captured him,” Howard said. “But he was nowhere to be found when Goldsworth gave himself up to the police. He swore to stop killing, said that it wasn’t fun anymore because Tinsley wasn’t around.” He sighed. “There was suspicion that he might have killed Tinsley, but there was no evidence on it. As far as we know, Tinsley went missing around late 2000 to early 2001, and Goldsworth was the last person to see him alive.”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Ryan held up a hand, brows furrowed. “Goldsworth gave himself up and was imprisoned since early 2001, Tinsley went missing around the same time? And Goldsworth swore to never kill again because Tinsley ‘wasn’t around’?”

“Yes, and he made good on that promise,” Howard answered. “He was spiritually strong, unbelievably so. Even until his death, we weren’t sure if all these spells were even enough to keep him in. He even had several binding sigils on his body, and I’m still not sure it was enough.” At the confused looks the young investigators gave him, Howard explained, “When we first brought him in, he said, and I quote, _Good job on the spells, but you probably want to do better to keep me in_. I’m not sure if he was just bluffing or if it really wasn’t enough but he didn’t bother to try to get out. I suppose I’ll never find out.”

Sara stared at the photos again. The warden sounded almost… disappointed.

Shane, ever observant, must have noticed the same, because he asked, “Was he an, um, exemplary prisoner then?”

Howard opened his mouth to answer, closed it with a thoughtful look, and ended up shrugging. “You know, I don’t know for sure. Some days he would be pretty friendly and chatted up a lot of people including the guards even if the guards never really responded. Some days he even flirted. But some days he just kind of… folded into himself. Stared at walls even when he was allowed time to socialize, didn’t respond when talked to. He just stared at walls and sang _You Are My Sunshine_. Whenever he was asked about it, he just laughed.” He fell silent and quietly noted, “There was one time, when I was a guard, I asked him why he was singing it. He said he missed his sunshine and began talking about that missing investigator, Tinsley.”

Ryan’s brow shot up. “That… could be relevant.”

“Can we talk about how an investigator went missing, though?” Shane chimed in. “It’s ridiculous, how a detective went missing. That’s like a fish drowning.”

That baited a laugh out of Ryan. “If you ever go missing, I’m going to write you a biography and I’ll have it titled _A Fish Drowning_.”

“I’ll co-write,” Sara offered immediately.

Morgan shook their head in amusement. “In any case, I’ll have the paperwork sent to your agency later. You’ll need it.” After a pause, they added, “I’ll add the documents we have on Tinsley, too, just in case. He might be relevant, somehow.”

“He probably is,” Sara agreed. She stared at the outline again, mind churning with thoughts she wished she could escape but knew she couldn’t.

“In any case, I hope you’ll catch this lunatic soon,” Howard spoke up. “We wouldn’t want anyone else to fall victim.”

“No,” Sara said quietly, almost to herself. “No, we wouldn’t.” Her hand hovered over her heart.

She failed to notice that Shane was staring.

* * *

 

The rest of the week passed in a whirlwind of research and digging information, trying to get more information about Tinsley’s disappearance and hoping that it would lead to some sort of clues about what exactly were the victims doing around late 2000 to early 2001. So far, the most they could confirm was that Tinsley was the only person skillful and spiritually powerful enough to be able to catch Goldsworth, and that Goldsworth enjoyed what little interaction they had.

Before Ryan realized it, Friday rolled in, and he blinked at his calendar in bewilderment. This happened sometimes; him being so absorbed in cases that he didn’t even realize the days and dates.

“How is this Friday already,” he said, and noted with dull surprise how deadpan he sounded despite his genuine confusion.

“You were in your research hole, it doesn’t surprise me that you lost track of time,” Shane replied with a shrug. “It’s almost time to go home. Don’t you think you should pack up and rest up?”

“I’m just going to read up a little bit more,” Ryan bargained.

Sara cut in with a loud groan. “No, Ryan, you need to rest,” she reminded sternly. “Freshen up a little, see things from a fresh perspective later. You don’t sleep enough as is.”

Ryan opened his mouth to protest, but the sudden pressure of his two friends glaring at him from two sides with equal intensity wilted the complaint before it truly bloomed. He sighed and nodded. “Alright, fine. But I’m taking some work home.”

“If your _some_ means you’re going to take all these home, I swear to god I will hide these and strap you to your bed so you would sleep,” Shane threatened.

“What? I know what _some_ means, you dick, I’m not taking _all_ of them home,” Ryan defended immediately.

Shane muttered a soft _sure_ under his breath, but the _sure_ sounded like the memetic _sure, Jan_ , so Ryan was half tempted to defend himself again, but then he remembered that he _was_ pretty bad at taking care of himself when he was neck deep in research, so he opted to keep silent instead.

“In any case, I saw Ashly earlier and she reminded me to not work overtime and rest instead,” Sara said. “And I’m inclined to agree, because we’ve been running around nonstop for a while now. Let’s face it, we’re no good if we’re too tired to work anyway.”

Ryan took a deep breath and ended up sighing. “Yeah,” he breathed out in defeat, “I guess we all need rest anyway. Maybe if I take a break from reading all these documents I’ll be able to spot something later when I take a look at it after some sleep.”

“Hopefully,” Shane added in agreement. He tapped the desk with his fingers. “Should we go back, then?”

Ryan blinked. “What? With me, to our apartment?”

“Yeah, where else?”

“Isn’t weekend your couple time?” Ryan asked, staring at Shane and Sara. “You sleep at Sara’s every weekend, why do you want to spend the weekend at our place now? You’ve missed last weekend because of the case already.”

“Um.” Shane avoided Ryan’s gaze and grimaced to Sara instead. Sara just returned the grimace.

Ryan interpreted the looks quickly and groaned loudly. “Guys, seriously? I don’t need babysitting!”

“We’re just worried you wouldn’t rest for real?” Shane hedged.

“I’m a grown ass man, I know when to sleep,” Ryan huffed in annoyance. “I appreciate it, but go spend some time with your girlfriend. I’m not the only one who needs down time.”

“I could spend time in your place instead?” Sara offered. “I’m alone anyway.”

“No, no, you two go have your usual couple-y things in your place,” Ryan shooed. “I third wheel on you two often enough anyway. I’m not gonna third wheel you two in my own place.”

“You don’t third wheel on us,” Shane protested.

“Alright, fine, but that doesn’t mean I’m not telling you to have quality time together.” Ryan propped his chin on his hand. “I need some quality alone time, too.” At the worry that started to create frown lines in Shane’s face, Ryan sighed. “And don’t worry too much about spirits. There are enough wards and sigils to keep me safe, and you know it. I know some protective spells, too. You’ve left me alone before, nothing bad ever happened.”

“I know,” Shane admitted. “I’m just worried. I guess this case is getting to me.”

“It’s getting to all of us,” Sara corrected. She rubbed her chest, just over her heart. “We’ve been dealing with something so violent, after all.”

“I don’t know why but I’ve been thinking, what if the killer finds out we’ve been working on the case and start targeting us instead,” Shane whispered softly. Ryan didn’t remember ever seeing him looking so openly fragile before. When Shane’s gaze fluttered to meet Sara’s, and then his, Sara cooed and took his hand into hers.

Ryan just shook his head and smiled with a lot more confidence than he actually felt. “Oh, come on, big guy. We can take them on, whoever they are.”

“Between the three of us, they wouldn’t stand a chance,” Sara agreed. She leaned into Shane’s space, her free hand drawing invisible sigils in the air. “I’m sure we’re safe. Don’t worry.”

It drew a soft, wheezed laugh from Shane. Ryan grinned in relief, happy to know Shane’s spirits had been lifted.

When they finally parted in the parking lot to go home, Sara took Ryan’s hand and drew a sigil with her finger onto his palm. Despite not being drawn with ink, Ryan could feel Sara’s magic tingling on his skin, seeping into his hand. He had had the sigil drawn on him enough to know that it was Sara’s sigil of protection, and he knew that this skin-on-skin drawing method Sara used wasn’t as strong as her usual, preferable ink-drawn sigil, but it would last longer.

“Just in case,” she told him as she let go of his hand.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m really sure nothing will happen,” Ryan said, looking at her straight in her eyes, gratitude and exasperation mixing into one in his voice.

Sara just rolled her eyes in response. “Well, _duh_. That’s why I said _just in case_ , dummy.” She offered him a cheery smile. “See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

The drive back home was just as uneventful as ever, and Ryan’s mind simply meandered to what he should have for dinner. Takeout, probably. It was the easiest solution for his problem, after all.

When he finally parked his car at his apartment’s parking lot and climbed out of the car, he froze in his tracks. Cold was creeping in, and he knew it had something to do with spirits. He wet his lips and looked around warily, trying to see if there was any ghost around that might be looking at him. When he saw none, he decided his best bet was probably to get into his apartment as soon as possible and comfort himself in the safety of sigils, potpourri, and sage.

He paced his steps, trying to walk as fast as he could without looking like he was running away. Spirits could tell, sometimes, if someone was running away. It could prompt them to follow out of curiosity instead.

The cold was creeping stronger instead of getting weaker, and Ryan was beginning to think someone was following him. A few times, he found himself turning to check despite his efforts to ignore whoever – or whatever – it was, but he always found nothing but an empty corridor. He swallowed and continued his walk, entering the elevator and found a brief respite in how it felt almost warm, but when he got to his floor he found that the cold was creeping back in as if it never left.

The thing about spirit-cold was that Ryan knew it well. He’d felt it since he was a child, and he had learned how to tell what kind of spirit was around by the cold that hugged him. Considering how the cold never truly left, he knew that whoever this spirit was, they were following him, but refused to be seen. That usually either meant the spirit was toying with him, or they had something to gain by not showing themselves to him. Neither were good case scenarios.

The other possibility was that the spirit was just shy, but shy spirits didn’t usually persistently follow people around and aggressively bleed coldness into the air. Ryan almost wished this was just a shy spirit, but it seemed unlikely.

He suppressed a shudder and forced himself to walk calmly to his apartment. Just as he slid the key into the keyhole, he felt something cold, cold, cold brushed against his ear, like a whispered whistle of breath, almost teasing. He jumped in shock, ice water hugging his skin, and turned so fast he gave himself whiplash.

There was nothing in the corridor.

The silence hammered against his ears, and he turned back to the door, frantically turning the key and wrenching it open. He nearly forgot to take the key out, but somehow managed to pull it out before closing the door with a slam and violently locking it again. The cold was still nibbling into his skin, despite the lines of sigils around the door and the walls, and the familiar smell of burnt sage and the undertone of various other herbs that permeated the apartment.

Ryan raised a trembling hand to his face, running his fingers on his hair in an attempt to calm himself, with limited success. He wondered if he should just sage the whole apartment, if only to ease his mind. Logically, he knew he was safe; Sara had since fortified the wards in the apartment to make sure he would be safer. Still, with his heart hammering against his chest and his fingers so cold he could barely feel them, it was hard not to feel scared.

His mind wandered to the bunched, dried sage he kept around. With a sigh, he decided to use it to cleanse the apartment. He knew that the smell, at least, would calm him.

He was starting to get warm again when he took out the sage, and just holding it in his hand eased him more than he thought it would. He looked around for a lighter to burn the sage, and suddenly the coldness was back.

With a gasp, he looked around in panic, trying to locate whatever was breathing ice into his space. A protection spell rose to the forefront of his mind, and he fought against his leaden tongue to speak the incantation. Sara’s protective magic spiked in his veins, flaring heat through his whole body that momentarily chased away the cold. Then, a flash of sparkling white-blue at the corner of his eyes, and when he tried to follow its movement, he felt the stab of cold at his back and the unmistakable sensation of a spirit taking over.

The cold was suddenly everywhere. Midwinter river rush swallowed him whole, and in desperation, Ryan grabbed around for any lifeline he could hold onto. His mouth opened to speak the incantation for the protective spell once more. The heat of Sara’s protective spell prickled against his skin, trying to combat the cold, but soon it died out.

The invasive spirit let his mind touch Ryan’s, and for a split second Ryan could feel the spirit’s thoughts as if they were his. _How interesting – no, go away – oh, the spell is weakening – leave_ now _– is that an incantation for protection? How cute – no, no, no, no,_ no _– don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you –_ bled into one in his head, and he wasn’t sure anymore which thought was his and which was the spirit’s. Fear rose in his stomach, and it was soon mixed with delighted excitement, and – Ryan wasn’t sure which one was his. He felt almost sick.

A thought rose above the rest, distinctly not his, and the spirit’s voice wavered out from Ryan’s mouth, “Oh. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” Ryan’s lips curled into a smile against his will and his mouth spoke again, “How nostalgic.”

The midwinter river rush roared into ruthlessly cold arctic storm, and static muffled Ryan’s mind. Darkness closed in on him, and the sadly familiar feeling of a spirit overpowering his will rolled him over like crashing wave. In the midst of fear and panic, recognition struck, even though Ryan didn’t know how or why.

Ryan drowned within himself, overpowered by the stifling presence overcrowding his senses that was Ricky Goldsworth’s soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been waiting to write this part, folks. ricky's _in_.  
>  (the next chapter is currently being worked on, so here's hoping i can upload it soon)


	5. Chapter 5

Despite his better judgments, Shane found himself sitting in bed staring at his laptop, checking the hours upon hours of security footage around the crime scenes in an increasingly wider radius. Sara was in the shower, and he knew she would take a long time to deal with her hair, so it gave him a nicely large window of time to check all the footage.

The thing was, considering he’d been staring at the footage for a while now, he wasn’t even expecting to find anything. That was why he nearly choked on the air he breathed when he actually found something.

It was the familiar figure of the dark-haired man he had been rooming with for a while. Ryan very clearly stared at the camera, eyes glimmering unnatural red. Shane found himself unable to look away, unable to comprehend what he was looking at. This was from the night of the first murder, and it was too far away from the apartment, and Shane knew for a fact Ryan was home. He kind of screamed loud enough to wake Shane up because of a vision he had in his sleep.

…which meant a spirit was bummed enough to share a vision with a medium. It seemed Fischer’s spirit was the one visiting Ryan, that night, which was weird because as far as Shane knew, Ryan didn’t know Fischer. But if he had seen him moments before death, however improbable that could be…

Nope. Nope, not thinking about that. Not now. Shane switched to another camera footage, aggressively ignoring the discovery by trying to discover something else.

He was just about to click fast forward for the umpteenth time when another scene caught his eyes. This time, it was of a lanky, tall man with similarly unnatural glimmer of red in his eyes. Shane gritted his teeth at the man who looked entirely too similar to him ( _it’s not me it’s not me it can’t be me_ ), switched to the files he had on Goldsworth, and tried to distract himself with the words that he couldn’t even fully digest with the roaring confusion and suspicion in his mind. He would talk to Sara and Ryan about discovery, of course, but… later. When he wasn’t as shaken up by it as now. At least at the start of the week, after like five mugs of coffee and maybe three cups of tea. He wasn’t willing to do it now. He would rest in the weekends, aggressively if he needed to.

He barely heard the bathroom door sliding open, still too caught up with his own thoughts, and he jumped when he heard Sara groan loudly. Almost on instinct, he slammed his laptop close, and he immediately winced. He hoped he didn’t slam the laptop too hard.

“You told Ryan to rest up, too, earlier,” she scolded. “Don’t you think you should practice what you preach?”

“I was just reading a bit,” Shane sheepishly argued.

Sara rolled her eyes. She took the laptop and set it on the bedside table, on _her_ side. “You’re not touching any work-related objects anytime soon, Madej. You can only start touching them again Sunday afternoon at the earliest.”

“Not even my phone?”

“Maybe for calls only. And Instagram?”

A smile tugged at Shane’s lips. “What about clothes? All my clothes are work clothes, basically. So they’re all work related.” He took Sara’s hand and guided her to bed. “Do you want me to stay naked the whole weekend?”

Sara’s brow rose. She sat cross-legged on the bed, one hand holding Shane’s and the other slowly drying her still-wet hair with a towel. “That depends. Do you _want_ to stay naked the whole weekend?”

“Probably not,” Shane admitted. “It would be kinda chilly.”

Sara giggled at that, and Shane smiled. He took the towel in Sara’s hair and nudged her to turn around, and when she did – still giggling softly – he took the reins to dry her hair, eyes tracing the painted firebird she had on her back peeking from her tank top. She would still need to use hair dryer later, but damp was still better than dripping wet.

“Do you think we should sage the apartment?” Sara asked all of a sudden.

Shane stilled, staring at the back of Sara’s head through the towel. He let the towel drape onto Sara’s shoulders and cover her back. She sounded almost cheerful, but Shane could feel the tremor of uncertain worry in her voice. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t,” he settled at last. “Do you want to do it now?”

Sara hummed in thought. “Tomorrow, maybe,” she decided. “I just showered, _you_ just showered. I don’t want my hair to smell like burnt sage as soon as I’m done drying it.”

“Okay.” He gave her a slight push. “Go dry your hair so we can sleep already. I don’t want to hear you whining about damp pillow because you forgot to use your hair dryer like that one time.”

“I don’t whine!” Sara protested, which ironically sounded like a whine. Shane laughed as she shook her head at him, even as she complied and rummaged around to get her hair dryer.

The next day was thankfully as dully normal as their usual weekend, with them simply sharing space and winding down together. With the apartment finally smudged and smelling satisfyingly of burnt sage, the two snuggled into the sofa side by side. Shane took his phone while Sara began browsing Netflix, and she looked at him in suspicion.

“That’s not anything work-related, I hope,” she said, “or I’m going to have to confiscate it.”

“Wh – don’t confiscate my phone,” Shane protested, laugh pushing out of his lungs. “I’m just checking on Ryan, just in case. As far as I know, he’s home alone.”

At that, Sara scooted closer. “How’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. I’m checking.” Shane opened his messaging app and tapped on Ryan’s name. immediately, their latest text-bicker showed up on the screen, and Sara burst out laughing.

 

[10:14 PM] Me:

_e t is a movie, ry_

_for all we know the only aliens out there are bacterias and amoebas_

[10:15 PM] Ryan:

_are you saying there is no way a life form out there could exist_

_and maybe be as advanced as we are_

_or even more_

_the universe is vast and you wont even consider the possibility?_

[10:16 PM] Me:

_alright, fine_

_lets consider the possibility_

_if i were e t and i saw earth i wouldn’t touch it with a pole the size of saturn_

[10:17 PM] Ryan:

_fair enough_

_we humans are full of shit_

“Is this what you guys text each other all the time?” Sara asked between gasps for breath. “Alien discourse?”

“Of course not,” Shane feigned offense. “We also text about popcorn, movies, and unsolved cases we think would be dope if someone adapted them into a three-part HBO special.”

The answer prompted another bout of giggles, and Shane grinned. He typed in a message,

 

[11:39 AM] Me:

_how you doing over there lil guy_

 

He set his phone aside and joined Sara in her quest to find a movie to watch. His phone dinged again just as they began debating over movie categories. He stopped in his tracks to take the phone. He hadn’t expected Ryan to reply so quickly.

 

[11:42 AM] Ryan:

_same old, same old_

_just watching some movies over here_

 

He rolled his eyes. Typical. Of course Ryan was watching movies.

 

[11:43 AM] Me:

_you’re eating popcorn, i hope_

_movie watching rule no 1_

_always have popcorn_

[11:47 AM] Ryan:

_of course i have popcorn_

_what sort of person doesn’t eat popcorn while watching movies_

[11:49 AM] Me:

_send me a pic i want proof_

 

He sent the last text more as a joke, but despite having read it Ryan didn’t respond right away. Shane frowned, but decided it was probably nothing. Maybe he got distracted by a movie scene, or someone rang the doorbell, or something. A few minutes later, the phone dinged again. When Shane saw the picture Ryan had sent, he let out an offended _no_.

“What?” Sara asked, having heard him.

“Ryan’s eating popcorn with raisinets,” Shane answered.

“Wait, what? Doesn’t he prefer just butter and salt?”

“Yeah, I don’t really know either.” Shane typed out a response to Ryan and hit _send_ with more force than necessary.

 

[12:03 PM] Me:

_ryan._

_what the fuck._

_wht’s with the raisinets_

[12:05 PM] Ryan:

_yeah i don’t know either_

_i felt like it_

[12:06 PM] Me:

_we agreed plain ol butter and salt is the best_

_popcorn is best enjoyed pure as it comes_

_what is this sacrilege_

[12:07 PM] Ryan:

_don’t come at me like this big guy_

_my tongue is regretting my decision too_

_i’m picking the raisinets so i can enjoy the popcorn_

[12:10 PM] Me:

_as you should_

_why did you put it in in the first place_

[12:12 PM] Ryan:

_i thought i could bring more finesse to perfection_

_i was wrong_

[12:19 PM] Ryan:

_some of the chocolate got stuck on the popcorn_

_it tastes chocolatey now_

_i regret this even more_

[12:23 PM] Me:

_the popcorn gods are punishing you for your sins_

 

The conversation dwindled after that, with each of them growing more absorbed to the movies they were watching. It niggled at the back of Shane’s mind, how Ryan was eating popcorn with raisinets. How dare. Good popcorn was pure popcorn. He vindictively shoved a handful of buttered popcorn into his mouth.

“He regrets it, Shane,” Sara piped up in the middle of the movie. “You don’t need to eat your popcorn so angrily.”

“I just don’t get why he thought adding raisinets would be a good idea,” Shane huffed.

“I know, babe, I know.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in relative silence while marathoning several movies in a row, only stopping for toilet breaks and to eat. After ordering takeout for dinner, they plopped down for more movies, even though by then they ended up staring at their phones and browsing social media more than actually watching the movie.

Without distraction of a sufficiently attention-grabbing movie, Shane’s mind wandered back to his discovery the previous night.

The security footage. Now that he’d slept on it, there was no doubt in Shane’s mind that they were just lookalikes that happened to be in the area. No, the two figures he saw in the footage were definitely Ryan and himself. The question was, there was no way Ryan could have been there and Shane didn’t remember being in the area for once in his life, so how? They’d established there was a portal mage involved, but that didn’t explain the missing memory. What about a shapeshifter, then? Was that possible? He’d never heard of such an extreme shifting, since the shifters were usually only able to change a small part of their appearance instead of shifting into a completely different person, but it wasn’t like that was completely out of the realm of possibility.  Maybe if a mage masked themselves in glamour…

“Oh no,” Sara said suddenly, and Shane looked up at her.

“What?” he asked when he saw the look Sara was giving him.

“That’s your thinking-about-work face,” Sara answered. “I thought we agreed to leave that until at least Sunday afternoon.”

“That’s you saying you want me to leave it. Did I ever say yes?”

Sara gave him a withering look. Shane held up his hand in surrender.

“I just couldn’t help but think.” Shane shrugged helplessly at Sara. “It’s just that…” he paused, thought, and ended up just shrugging again. He couldn’t even think of how he could begin to approach the topic.

Sara lifted a brow at him and shifted to face him directly. “Alright, now you’re getting me all curious. What?”

Shane sighed. He purposefully angled his face away from her so he could avoid looking her in the eyes. “I just can’t help but think if… if there’s any chance Ryan and I were involved in this case.”

Sara didn’t make a sound to respond, and Shane could imagine her staring at him, incredulous. It sounded like some sort of wild conspiracy theory even to his ears. Shane sighed and shifted back to look at her properly. “I know, it sounds ridiculous – “ he stopped in his tracks. “Sara?”

The look Sara was currently wearing on her face would be best described with _deer in the headlights_. He stopped in his tracks and stared, mind suddenly on overdrive. Her reaction upon learning who Nathan Fischer was, the refusal to talk, how she would fall silent at certain topics whenever discussing the case and how she seemed almost unsure about the sigils left at the crime scene, …

“That’s,” Sara tried to cover her slip-up with a laugh, but it sounded too nervous to be genuine. “That’s ridiculous, yeah.”

Shane blinked and, softly and carefully, asked, “Is there any chance that _you_ are involved, somehow?”

“What – no!”

“What about the incident eighteen years ago? Any chance of us being involved, however impossible that sounds to me?”

Sara recoiled as though slapped.

“It’s got something to do with that thing you refused to talk to me about,” Shane chased. “Right? Just tell me if I’m wrong, Sara.” An edge of desperation snuck its way into Shane’s voice, and his words cracked just as they escaped his lips, “Are we involved?”

She rubbed her chest, over her heart. His eyes were transfixed to the motion instantly. “Shane, stop this,” she said, clearly uncomfortable.

A spark of anger made itself know in Shane’s chest, and a part of him hated him instantly for basically interrogating Sara. She wasn’t some suspect he was supposed to hound, for fuck’s sake. “Sara, don’t give me that,” he huffed. “I still don’t know about Ryan and me, but you… I know you know something about this, at the very least. Do you honestly think I haven’t noticed you rubbing your chest?” She tensed at this, but he barged on. He tapped his own upper chest, around the area where Sara usually rubbed hers. “Around here, right? Just by your heart. It’s the same place as the chest wounds the victims have. If I recall correctly, Goldsworth had a sigil tattooed on his chest, in the same area.” He stared, quiet. “I know you have the same sigil on your chest.”

Sara’s hand tensed. She pulled it down and grabbed the sofa, clenching the fabric. “I can’t tell you anything.”

“Sara, if there’s even the slightest chance that we’re somehow involved, I need to know.”

“I _can’t_ tell you,” Sara’s voice climbed to a snap, but not quite. She rubbed her face with both hands and stood, walking back and forth before settling on the ottoman in front of Shane, sitting with her back to him. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Shane asked.

Sara whipped back to look at him, a desperate look in her eyes. “Because it’s – “ her voice locked in her throat and she choked on the breath she took. Tears welled in her eyes, and Shane recognized the look of frustration in her face. She turned around again, once more showing Shane her back.

“Sara,” he called softly, “is there a silencing spell?”

She tensed. Then, she gave a stiff nod. “I want to tell you,” she whispered softly, but loud enough for Shane to hear. “I’ve wanted to, for so long. But I can’t.”

Shane reached out to her and settled his hand on her back. She stiffened, but soon relaxed into his touch. He rubbed the head of the firebird painted on her back, feeling the warmth of Sara’s skin under his, wondering if she was truly warmer than she ought to be or if the magic within the tattoo was messing with her temperature. “Is there no way to go around it? Is there no way to break it?”

“If there is, I’m not sure it’s worth trying,” Sara answered quietly. “There are risks. I don’t know if I can afford to take them.” Then, even quieter, “I don’t know if I could deal with the consequences.”

“Is there any chance of you dying?”

The question stilled Sara. “Yes.”

Shane’s heart clenched. “Is there any chance of _Ryan_ dying? Of _me_?”

“Yes.” Sara seemed to fold into herself, breathing deeply. “If you and Ryan both know nothing of this, the chances of you two, or me, or all of us, dying, is decreased. That’s another reason why I keep silent.” She laughed humorlessly. “Not that it’s a choice I can make. My lips are sealed no matter what I choose.”

Shane’s heart clenched, and he stood and hugged Sara from behind. He had to bend his body to encompass Sara’s tiny frame, but he managed, practically bowing and folding himself around her. He pressed his lips against her crown, and squeezed gently. She responded by putting her hand on his arm. Her fingertips were cold.

“Are you angry at me?” she asked softly.

Shane fell silent at that, contemplating. “No,” he decided at last. “It’s not really your fault. If there’s a spell, you can’t do anything about it. But, I think…” He wet his lips and squeezed again before letting go. “I think I need to think this through. Maybe give me space.”

Sara deflated at that, but nodded. “Would you tell Ryan?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Shane answered honestly. “I get that keeping us in the dark is a choice you made for good reasons, but… I found something.”

“For the case?”

“Yeah.” Shane sighed. “Some security footage. I don’t think we can discuss this fully… the silencing spell is still there and in effect, right?”

Sara nodded. “It would be too convenient if it loses its effect once someone finds out,” she said, half a grumble and half a miserable whine.

“I know. Unbelievable. We can all do with some handout plot convenience right now,” Shane agreed immediately. It made Sara laugh, however soft and almost bitter it sounded. “In any case, we’ll have to talk about this.” He grimaced. “Let’s… wait until Monday.”

Sara stared at him and sighed. “Alright.” She fell silent at that, and reached for her sketchbook and began drawing.

Shane heaved a breath and looked around the apartment, staring at the wall stickers Sara made with her own design and feeling alone, despite being so close to her. He reached for his phone, wondering if he should text Ryan, but stopped. No, he might spill if he texted him, and he wasn’t sure Sara or himself were ready. Instead he opened his social media apps and began browsing, drowning himself in Instagram and Twitter feeds and somehow ending up meandering and reading up on the numerous Ptolemys without truly absorbing any information.

The movie on TV went unwatched, simply providing white noise that buzzed in the background. It didn’t help with the crowding thoughts in Shane’s mind.

* * *

 

Monday came around, and Shane walked into the agency with heavy footsteps, deep in thought. Sara walked behind him instead of next to him, and he felt a pang. She was clearly still weighed down by their dialogue on the weekend, and as much as he knew such feelings couldn’t be erased with a simple hug, he didn’t want her to wallow too much. He slowed his steps to match Sara’s pace.

“I’ll go to the conspiracy HQ,” he said. “Ryan’s probably there already.”

Sara nodded. “Give me a call if you need anything? I’ll catch up to the HQ.” _If you want to start talking to Ryan about what you found_ went unspoken, but understood.

“No, we can meet at the map room instead,” Shane offered. Sara smiled at the suggestion and nodded. Shane had just lifted his hand to wave her goodbye when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Shane?” the person called. It was Andrew, Shane realized and his usually dull tone was laced with uneasiness.

“Hi, Andrew,” Sara greeted. “Good to know you’re almost your normal color.”

“Ha. Ha.” Andrew laughed dryly. He glanced at his hand, clearly noting the pale, lime-y green his skin had now adopted, and returned Sara’s amused gaze with a deadpan one. “Good to see you too. Anyway, uh. Have you two seen Ryan today?”

“No, why?” Shane asked back. His alarm was pinged instantly.

“I don’t know, Steven said he seemed a bit off,” Andrew answered. “He’s going with Ryan to the cold case office to make sure he’s fine. I don’t think there was anything wrong with him, except maybe he was smiling more widely than usual.”

Shane glanced at Sara, who returned his gaze with equal worry. He turned back to Andrew and smiled. “Thanks for the info, man. We’ll meet him and see if he’s okay.”

“No problem,” Andrew returned with a nod. He walked away, and Shane turned to Sara.

“I’ll go see Ryan with you,” she declared before he could get a word in. “Just in case.”

“Great, because if this is the worst case scenario then I’d definitely need your help,” Shane retorted grimly.

The two made their way to the conspiracy HQ, and for once Sara made no complaint about how far the cold case offices was. The walk was filled with silence, but this time it was tense instead of heavy, broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the ambiance noise.

Along the way, Sara had taken out her drawing pen and drew a complicated sigil onto her palm. When she was done, they were steps away from the door of the HQ, and she took Shane’s hand to transfer the sigil to his palm.

He found himself staring at the sigil in surprise. “Are you sure we should use this sigil?” he asked nervously. “It has the potential to hurt Ryan.”

“I think it’s a risk we have to take,” Sara answered. She was determined, but there was also a touch of nervousness in her voice. “We don’t know how long the spirit’s been inhabiting his body.”

Shane swallowed when he realized the truth in Sara’s words. The longer a spirit had taken over someone’s body, the more accustomed they were to the vessel, the less likely they were to leave the body peacefully. A full on exorcism might be needed, and the more violent the process, the more likely the medium would get hurt. Shane didn’t want to hurt Ryan, that was obvious. But, if the spirit had been there for a while…

Shane settled to give Sara a smile nod. With Sara’s magic sparking warmth into his palm, Shane led the march into the HQ. Inside, they found Ryan chatting amiably with Steven, though they could see Steven looking uncomfortable. His smile was stiff, and he inched away from Ryan even though Ryan displayed nothing particularly threatening, simply smiling and commenting about some basketball game. When Steven saw Shane and Sara coming in, he shot to his feet, winced when he jarred his partly-healed ankle, and hobbled over to the couple.

“Anything wrong with him?” Sara whispered softly to him.

“I don’t know. I can’t really tell but something feels really off,” Steven whispered back. He twisted his foot around as if trying to test his ankle. “Listen, I need to get back to larceny office, but should I call for backup of something? Should I tell Rie to prepare some potions, just in case?”

“I don’t know about that,” Sara said, still whispering. “But if something _is_ wrong I’ll let you know.”

Steven nodded, waved to Ryan while giving an uncomfortable smile, and slipped away.

Shane turned to Ryan and gave him a grin. Sara’s magic tingled still. “Hey, Ry. How’d your weekend go?”

The medium shrugged. “Eh. I was just watching movies. It’s as great as any other weekends.” His face twitched. “Except for the raisinets popcorn, I guess.”

“I still don’t get why you even thought that was a good idea.”

“Would you stop asking me about that? I didn’t know either!” Ryan laughed, a little self-deprecating. “I made a mistake and the popcorn gods punished me for it.” His gaze wandered off to Sara, and it softened. “Hi, Sara.”

“Hi,” Sara waved amiably. “Shane told me you had to pick the raisinets and the popcorn still tasted chocolatey.”

Ryan huffed. “Don’t remind me of that awful popcorn.”

“It’s your own fault for adding raisinets to it,” Shane bit back playfully as he slid into the seat next to Ryan’s. He took in Ryan’s appearance as discreetly as possible, trying to see if he was truly Ryan or rather someone else trying to pose as Ryan. The eyes were dark, but Ryan’s were too, so Shane couldn’t really tell from them unless he wanted to force Ryan down and stare intently into his eyes – clearly, that was both creepy and would call attention to his suspicion, so that was obviously out of the options.

“So, did you rest or did you end up burying yourself in work again?” Sara prompted. She casually sat on the table Ryan was at, and Shane couldn’t help but notice the advantage they had on Ryan. They were effectively flanking him, and Ryan didn’t seem to notice.

“I ended up marathoning Star Wars, actually,” Ryan admitted. “I watched all of them and ended up sleeping in the couch. I didn’t really touch the case files.” He patted the pile of files on the desk. “Thankfully I didn’t forget to bring them, so it’s time to cram, I guess.”

“That’s good, because if you forgot them I would get you to drive back home and pick them up,” Shane commented. He was still searching. Was it the demeanor? The way Ryan moved didn’t really seem _wrong_ , but it was _off_ , somehow, in a way Shane couldn’t put his finger to. Was it his speech? But no, not really. He couldn’t just _ask_ either, if the spirit knew things could get awry.

“Of course you would,” Ryan scoffed and shifted to bump his shoulder to Shane’s, and suddenly it struck him.

“Okay,” Shane said sternly, grabbing Ryan on the lower arm. “You can stop pretending right now.”

Ryan – _not-Ryan_ – blinked. “What?”

“I know you’re not Ryan. Stop pretending to be him.”

“What even are you talking about?” Confusion made itself known in both Ryan’s eyes and voice, and for a moment Shane wavered.

He resolved himself and strode on. “Ryan purifies the apartment with sage. He smells of it, not tobacco.”

Sara turned sharply to not-Ryan, while not-Ryan’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Stop that,” Shane said again. “Get out.”

Not-Ryan stared at him for a moment before he ruffled his own hair, sighing. “Well, damn. I thought I could get at least another day before someone caught on. Apparently burnt sage and all this potpourri smell can’t mask the smell of tobacco.”

“It’s not that it can’t mask it,” Shane explained quietly. “It’s just that tobacco smells too foreign on him, who consistently smells of burnt sage.” He took a deep breath and let Sara’s sigil transfer over from his palm to Ryan’s arm. As he let the tingle leave him, he stared at not-Ryan in anticipation. He knew this sigil – Sara had used it multiple times before, when dealing with trickier spirits that decided Ryan’s body was a free chance of another shot for living. She had perfected it to the point that it was ruthlessly powerful, but it would be accompanied by a violent reaction from the spirit. Theoretically, powerful enough spirits would be able to fight it, but so far Shane had never seen any who could.

And yet, this spirit just shuddered and shook. “Oof, that tickles,” he muttered, before he let a too-wide grin overtake his borrowed face. “How interesting. I never thought I’d ever feel a banishment spell from within a body. So far, only _him_ was powerful enough to do it.” He turned to Sara, and his smile changed. Soft, almost. “Hello, little princess. You’ve grown a lot, these past years.”

Shane turned to Sara in surprise. She stared at the spirit in Ryan with eyes wide in shock, before uncertainty took over. She sat stuck on her spot, wavering, before she called quietly, “Ricky Goldsworth?”

Shane sucked in a breath and whipped back to not-Ryan, eyes wide. The spirit – Goldsworth – allowed the smile on his face to widen. He seemed pleased. “You remember me! I’m glad.” His eyes strayed to Shane, and Shane finally realized his eyes were darker than Ryan’s. The dead person breathing allowed a small, amused chuckle at him. “ _You_ don’t remember me, I presume.”

_That_ took Shane aback. “Have we… met?”

Goldsworth shrugged, jostling Shane’s hand that still held him as he did. “If you don’t remember me, I see no reason to remind you.”

“I think you owe us that much,” Shane argued, “seeing that you’re using our friend’s body and all. How’d you even stay like this undetected?”

Goldsworth scoffed, and this time it was decidedly _not Ryan_. “Oh, please. I’m no amateur. I know how to impersonate someone perfectly. I have access to their brain, after all.” He quirked a brow to Shane and smiled. “Your text messages with shorty over here are really amusing, by the way. Very entertaining. Is your spoken conversation usually as amusing as your written texts?”

Anger flared. “You read our text messages?”

The confusion that shone through Ryan’s eyes were decidedly insulting. “Of course I did. How else would I know how you normally interact with each other, other than the partial access I have to shorty’s memory?”

“You have partial access to his memory.” Sara sounded like she was floating in her own thoughts, so surprised she came around to being numb. “I don’t think I’ve heard of other spirits being able to do that.”

“Again, I’m no amateur.” Goldsworth fixed his piercing gaze to Sara. “That aside… little princess, you realize you’re the last pillar, don’t you?” He tilted his head. “You’re the only one left.”

Sara swallowed. Her hand clasped over her heart, and even afar Shane could see it shake almost imperceptibly. “I’m aware,” she murmured.

“Good.” Goldsworth sighed. “I would try to help shoulder the burden, but the son of a bitch is stronger than I thought. He gobbled my heart whole before I had the chance to retaliate. But I was also in a disadvantage, given the limiters put onto my body.”

“So none of the limiters are on you, now?” Sara asked. “Not even the silencing spell?”

“Not even that.” Goldsworth glanced to Shane. “Unfortunately, I’d better keep my mouth shut. Can’t risk _the spell_ breaking prematurely after all.” He turned back to Sara, and his gaze grew sharp. “Be careful, little princess. Stay alive. Unlike the others, I actually liked you. I still do. It would be a shame if you died.”

The look of surprise in Sara’s eyes was almost gratifying. At least Shane wasn’t the only one feeling lost here.

Goldsworth turned back to Shane, and he stiffened. The spirit chuckled in amusement, gaze softening before the sharp glint returned. “You too, long legs. Stay alive. Keep this shorty here living, too. I didn’t stick out my neck all those years ago, see my detective get dragged to god knows where, and dying in prison just to see you two dropping dead anyway.”

Shane released his hold, nearly unaware that he did. “Your detective… Tinsley? Are you somehow related to the incident eighteen years ago? Is he?” He couldn’t help the whine that wormed its way into his voice. “Tell me everything. What exactly happened eighteen years ago? How are you, Tinsley, Dube, and Fischer related to it and this case right now? How is Sara related?” His voice cracked when he asked, “Am I or Ryan related? How?”

To his frustration, Goldsworth just laughed. “Don’t worry too much, long legs. Stay alive.” He turned to Sara with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll stick around for a while, but don’t worry. Killing people isn’t on my agenda anymore. It’s not fun without him around. See you around, long legs, little princess. Send my regards to shorty.”

“Wait – “

A pulse of energy shocked Shane into stillness. It burst just as Goldsworth shot out of Ryan, gravity-defying powers of a spirit maxed out as he blasted away and phased through the ceiling, disappearing from view. Shane started, wanting to chase even though he knew it was impossible. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Goldsworth could have been his source of answers, could be persuaded to have a conversation with Ryan without endangering anyone, and yet like any other potential answer he slipped away just like water escaping through the gaps of Shane’s fingers. It was frustrating.

His attention snapped back to Ryan when he heard the chair creaking. His eyes widened when he saw Ryan’s vacant gaze, and gravity pulled at Ryan’s being as he began to fall. Shane reacted quickly, grabbing Ryan’s shoulders before he slid out of his seat to the hard floor below, and somehow the shorter man ended up resting his chin on his shoulder. As gently and quickly as he could, Shane vacated to the floor and lay Ryan down, shaking him.

“Ryan,” he called, worry bleeding freely into his voice. “Ry. Are you awake?”

For a tense moment, there was no response. Then, Ryan groaned. It prompted a gasp of relief from Shane, which turned back into worry once more when Ryan’s breath caught and he turned in blind panic, grabbing a trash can and violently puking into it. Shane moved almost on autopilot, carefully stroking Ryan’s back, trying to ease him. He only stopped when Sara shoved two bottles of water to him. A pen was held gingerly in her free hand.

“I may not be able to draw good coffee, but I can do water just fine,” she assured. “Take it. I’ll get Rie. Maybe some medical mage, too.”

Shane nodded his thanks. After Sara was gone, he uncapped a bottle and gave a little sip. As usual, Sara’s magic hovered above the taste, but it was barely there at all. Considering it was layered with Sara’s desire to help, it was probably safe for Ryan to take. Normally, his delicate state meant consuming others’ magic could hurt him further, but at this point he was already so familiar with Sara’s magic that it should be okay.

When it seemed like Ryan was done puking, he held the uncapped bottle at Ryan’s line of vision. Ryan grabbed it and rinsed his mouth, finishing the whole bottle just to clean the taste of acid that was surely sticking stubbornly to his tongue. Shane uncapped the other bottle and held it to him when he finished the first bottle, and Ryan drank the content almost greedily.

“Shane?” Ryan called tiredly, voice wavering unsteadily, but this time it was definitely him. Shane hummed in response, and he asked, “Is this… work?”

Shane leaned back as he studied Ryan’s pale face. He didn’t like how lost the younger man looked. “Yes, it’s the office,” he replied.

Ryan just groaned. “Fuck.”

“What was the last thing you remembered?” Shane asked.

“Trying to fight off the ghost of Ricky Goldsworth, who thought I was a free real estate at the apartment, just as soon as I got home back in Friday.”

Shane inhaled sharply. “You’ve been hosting the spirit for two days, give or take.”

“I guess?” Ryan pushed the trash can away. It wobbled, but thankfully didn’t topple. “He’s strong. He passed through the security sigils and spells at the apartment.” He flopped onto the floor, looking completely exhausted. “I’m just so… tired.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. You hosted him for too long.” Shane stared at him and sighed. “I should have known it wasn’t you right away. He ate popcorn with raisinets.”

That seemed to wake Ryan up a little. “Wait, he did what?”

“I know, right?! I was so mad.”

“He probably likes popcorn that way,” Ryan said as he melted back onto the floor, though his head was still partly lifted so he could look at Shane. “I don’t. It’s my body; if he eats something I don’t like while inside me he wouldn’t find it that tasty either.”

“I’m glad to know your love for plain ol’ buttered popcorn transcends the harsh bonds of mortal coils.”

Ryan scoffed. “Don’t underestimate my love for popcorn.” He let his head thump down on the floor, and closed his eyes. “Ricky Goldsworth is a heathen, for liking fruity popcorn.”

The statement drew a laugh out of Shane. It didn’t stop until the medical mages came, and in the end they ended up offering to check on him to see if he was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that texting part took so long to format, what the heck
> 
> also i wanted to post just the first part but then it felt too short, and i added the second part but then it felt too long. the struggle.


	6. Chapter 6

They had Ryan lay down on one of the three-seat couches in the agency’s break room. Though, it was more apt to say they dragged him and lay him down there, because by the time the medical mages who brought Ryan got to the break room he was already half asleep. One of them managed to coax him into drinking some water laced with potent elixir before he completely nodded off. When they left, they instructed Sara and Shane to keep an eye on Ryan and to grab Rie when he woke up so she could assess the situation and make the appropriate potion.

Sara stared at Ryan’s pale, almost sickly pallor. She sat on a chair by the desk in the middle of the room, one hand nervously twirling her drawing pen. She wondered if she should ward the room, at least temporarily. After a moment, she waved the idea off. The wards in the agency itself should be enough, and though Ricky was able to ignore the wards, he was a special case. Sara trusted him to not endanger Ryan again, given that he had stated he didn’t want any of them to die.

Beside Ryan, Shane sat, anxiously staring at the medium’s face. He folded his arms in front of his chest and bounced his leg so fast it nearly seemed to blur. He shifted and pressed his knuckle into his lips.

Sara sighed. “Hold his hand, Shane,” she spoke up, and Shane jolted, turning to her in surprise. She shrugged. “It’ll probably help him heal up.”

“How do you know it would?” Shane asked, even as he reached out to take Ryan’s hand.

Sara shrugged again. “Ryan’s said you’re warm and you practically ooze life and repel ghosts, for one thing. You always seem to amplify the best part of someone’s magic and overall spiritual abilities, for another.”

Shane blinked. “I do?”

Sara opened her mouth to answer, but her voice locked itself in her throat. She smiled sourly. “It’s almost funny how you don’t realize it yourself,” she said instead.

Shane snorted. “All I know is about the warmth thing. I never knew that I amplify people’s magic.” He squeezed Ryan’s hand and massaged it gently. When Ryan stirred, he stopped, and he settled to rub his thumb at the back of Ryan’s hand when Ryan shifted back to sleep with a soft sigh.

“To be fair, no one really ever talks about it,” Sara mused. Her fingers twitched, and she finally succumbed to the desire to strengthen the wards. She was no good at healing magic, but warding, she could do. She took out a stack of sticky notes from her pocket and started drawing sigils for _safety_ and _sterile_ , wondering what sort of combination would be best to create the best environment for a healing patient.

They fell into a lull, with Sara drawing sigils and Shane lost in thought, occasionally checking his phone for updates on social media or whatever sudden fancy history snippet his quick mind hopped onto. It felt peaceful, almost, especially with how soft and calm breaths Ryan breathed. It nearly startled Sara, when she realized she’d been keeping track of his breathing rhythm, but at the same time it really wasn’t surprising at all; spirits tend to have different breathing pattern than living people, with them being used to not having lungs and all.

She had put the drawn sticky notes in a row on the desk to later figure out the best pattern and sequence to put them in and was in the process of drawing another sigil when the door was suddenly pushed open, impacting the wall with a loud _bang_. The surprise made Sara rip the sticky note with her pen, and Shane jumped, a squeak in his throat that never truly managed to come out as a yelp. Both of them turned to the door.

Morgan stood there with a look that Sara couldn’t quite identify in their face. They marched inside with purpose, footsteps booming loudly. At the door, an intern – Mallory, was it? – facepalmed and threw Sara an apologetic look. She casted a quick glance around the room, apparently decided she wanted nothing to do with whatever was going to go down, and silently closed the door.

“Hello, Morgan,” Sara greeted, not bothering to cover the annoyance in her voice. “Good to see you here. Maybe keep it down, though. Ryan’s recovering from a possession.”

The way Morgan’s gaze sharpened made Sara’s gut curdle with unease. “Do you know who possessed him?”

“It was Ricky Goldsworth,” Sara answered. “Why do you ask?”

The sharp gaze softened into confusion. “He’s still around?”

Sara shrugged helplessly. “Apparently.”

Morgan opened their mouth to speak, but shook their head. The steely gaze was back. “Never mind that. We can deal with that later. I just – “ he whipped sharply to Shane and Ryan. “I need some answers from you.”

Shane straightened, slowly but purposefully. He angled himself so he could face Morgan but still held Ryan at the same time. “What questions do you want to ask?” he asked coolly.

Morgan didn’t say anything at first, only rummaging into their bag and took out a few sheets of paper. Some fell onto the floor, but they paid them no mind. Instead they shoved the papers to Shane. “I found some footage. Why are you and Bergara in them? Why do you have red eyes in them?”

Sara stilled in her seat, staring. Were they the same as the ones Shane found? They must be, judging from the lack of surprise in Shane’s face. He simply took the papers and stared at them, quiet.

“I didn’t know you’re reviewing security tapes for this case,” Sara said. “I thought the police department gave us full rein in this case.”

“That doesn’t mean the detective that was initially given the case can’t help with the investigations.” Morgan barely even looked at Sara. “Madej, I need answers. If there is even the slightest bit chance of you – any of you – possibly sabotaging this case, then I’ll have to find another team for it. Maybe even another agency.” They shifted. “Let me ask again. Why are you and Bergara in the security tapes in the nights of the murders of Fischer and Dube?”

There was a shift of fabric and the sound of someone’s breath catching. “W-what…?”

Cold seized Sara’s spine, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Ryan felt when a stray spirit came near. She shifted her gaze to find Ryan wriggling on the couch so he could sit up. Shane gently pushed him back down, but he stubbornly tried to get up. In the end, both compromised by having Ryan half-laying, half-sitting on the couch.

“What do you mean, there are security tapes of us in the nights of the murder?” Ryan asked. He was clearly struggling to stay awake.

“I found security tapes of you two,” Morgan explained. “The tapes were collected from places far enough away from the crimes scenes not to immediately ring any bells, but if you’re fit you could definitely walk to the scenes and avoid being seen on cameras on the way. Normally it wouldn’t make you look suspicious, but you both have glowing red eyes for some reason.” They turned their attention to Shane. “You don’t look surprised,” they noted.

Shane frowned, but didn’t say anything.

Sara decided to give him a little push. “Shane. Is this the thing you found?”

Shane’s frown deepened. He took a deep breath and sighed harshly. “Yes,” he admitted at last. “I found the footages this weekend. Last Friday. I decided we all needed our rest. I wanted to discuss about it today.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Ryan said, and he sounded betrayed.

“There was that fiasco with Goldsworth,” Shane retorted. “And you clearly need rest.”

“But this footage – “ Ryan cut himself off. He shook his head a little and fixed his gaze at Morgan. “Tell me about the footage.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be resting instead? We can have this conversation after you’re rested,” Sara asked, hoping to nudge Ryan to another direction because she doubted he would be able to think rationally, being that tired. She got a heated glare for her efforts, so she held up her hands in an attempt to placate him and fell silent.

Morgan seemed to hesitate on answering, seemingly realizing the dark circles under Ryan’s eyes and the tremble in his fingers when he moved. They steeled themselves, though, and cleared their throat. “I found some security footage of the two of you,” they gestured vaguely to Shane and Ryan, “far enough away from the crime scenes of Fischer and Dube’s murders to not draw attention. However, the two of you sported glowing red eyes commonly found in malicious possessions.” They sighed deeply and shifted their weight between their feet. “Alongside that, I also found that the cameras that caught your footage malfunctioned  shortly after you were out of the frames. I’m… not an expert, but this is also commonly found in malicious possessions, and…”

“You’re inclined to believe that they are possessed by a malicious entity?” Sara finished the thought for them. Morgan shut their eyes and wrinkled their nose in distaste, but nodded.

“You’re saying you suspect us of being involved in this case, possibly by means of possession,” Ryan concluded, tone surprisingly sharp even though he seemed ready to drop at any moment.

“Yes.” Morgan’s answer came quickly and mercilessly. They hesitated, then said, “I… had been thinking about requesting some sort of monitoring or tracking magic to be put on the two of you. In the worst case scenario, you would be put on house arrest, given there is no word on maybe pulling you off the case just yet.”

“Tracking magic or house arrest,” Shane repeated. Something rumbled in his voice, but Sara couldn’t tell what. He looked away, a thoughtful but thunderous look in his eyes. Leaning back to his chair and crossing his arms and legs, he exhaled loudly through his nose. “I don’t know how I feel about the options, but if I’m honest with myself tracking magic would definitely help.” He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “All cards on the table, Morgan. Truthfully, we have reasons to believe that the victims may have been involved in some sort of incident eighteen years ago. We also have reasons to believe that all three of us might have also been involved.”

Ryan flinched. “What?!”

Morgan glared at Shane. “Madej, if this is true then you three will have to be pulled off the case. You’re too involved in this.”

“Wait a moment! I don’t remember ever getting into some sort of shit eighteen years ago,” Ryan protested. “I was, what, ten?”

“Out of us three, only Sara knows what happened,” Shane explained, and Sara winced when Morgan and Ryan both swiveled to stare at her. “However, from what I gathered, she can’t tell anyone. There is a silencing spell involved.”

“What _can_ you tell us about that incident, then?” Morgan prompted.

“None whatsoever.” Sara shook her head and tapped her pen nervously. “I’ve tried. And if you’re thinking about breaking the spell, you can’t. There’s a – “ her voice locked in her throat, and Sara coughed. She pursed her lips and stared at Morgan pointedly. “Trust me, you don’t want to break it.”

“Lives were lost,” Morgan didn’t snap, but it was a close thing. “More might follow. Why wouldn’t I want to break the spell?”

“Because _hundreds_ or even _thousands_ might die as opposed to, what, five?” Sara bit back.

“There was something that Goldsworth said, earlier,” Shane mused, “about you being the only one left. Is this related to that?”

Sara nodded stiffly. “I can’t give you the details,” she said, “but I assure you, if the spell is broken, bad things are going to happen.”

Ryan made a thoughtful noise. “I wonder if this is related to what Goldsworth thought about, before he took control of my body.”

Sara stared. “Did he say anything?”

“Something about some, some spell weakening,” Ryan answered. He frowned. “I couldn’t make sense of it at all. At the time I didn’t think much of it, but then again, I was trying to banish him from me. It didn’t work.”

Morgan made a noise that was partway a groan, a whine, and a sigh at once. It was almost impressive, how they managed it. “In any case, this means all three of you need to be monitored or even put on a house arrest. Please, for now, limit your movements. Just… either stay in the office or stay home. Until I can wrangle someone to put some tracking magic on you, we’ll have to do this without magic.”

“Just go ahead and put me in house arrest, honestly,” Ryan muttered. “It’s probably safer for everyone involved. Put me in a cage for all I know.”

Sara frowned. “Why the sudden self-deprecating humor, Ryan? We’re can’t just put someone in a cage willy nilly.”

“Why not? It’s safer if you just pop me in some harsh barrier like the one in Mandrake Prison.” Ryan looked away. For the first time he actually looked awake, but his eyes burned with something that made Sara’s skin crawl.

“Ryan, you’re not making sense,” Shane said, blunt. “What’s this about?”

“I got possessed by Goldsworth, dammit,” Ryan snapped. “I tried banishing him but it didn’t work.”

“None of us would hold that against you,” Shane pointed out. “Goldsworth it ridiculously powerful, by spirits standards. No medium would’ve stood a chance.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is, then?”

Ryan glared. The dark circles under his eyes just made his gaze all the more eerie. “Goldsworth didn’t have malicious intent, believe it or not. Malicious spirits would be a lot harder to fight. If Goldsworth could have taken over so easily – hell, if that spirit trapped in the chalice Andrew and Steven brought could have taken over so easily, then what chance do I have against malicious entities? I’m just going to be a liability.”

“That’s not true,” Sara argued. “You know a spell or two for protection, and I can strengthen the protection. You’re not a liability. We need you, especially to communicate with the sprits.”

“What good’s talking gonna do if the spirit just want to get a freebie and murder people?” Ryan shot back harshly, making Sara flinch back, and only shrunk further back with each sentence he spoke. “Hell, what good’s drawing sigils gonna do? Goldsworth burned through your sigils, didn’t he? I may not have control over myself when he took over, but I got that impression. We’re both useless anyway, so why even bother?!”

“That’s enough!” Shane snapped loudly, and Ryan jumped. “Ry, if you don’t calm the fuck down and stop dragging yourself and Sara with something that doesn’t even have any basis, I’m going to have Sara put you to sleep. Settle down. _Now_.”

Ryan glared at him, but complied. He sank into the cushions and looked away, mumbling, “Just put me on house arrest and make sure no one’s gonna get hurt if things go to shit. I don’t even care anymore.” He avoided eye contact with them, eyelids fluttering with exhaustion.

Sara wet her lips. Though Ryan pointing out them both being useless hurt, she could see why he would get to that conclusion, somewhat. A part of her wondered how much of it was just Ryan being on edge and frustrated and eventually blowing up, and how much of it was him being genuine. Another part tried to tell herself that it wasn’t true, she wasn’t useless.

Her mind wandered to when her spell didn’t even manage to bother Goldsworth enough to make him feel uncomfortable. She rubbed her chest, remembering how Goldsworth referred to her as the last pillar. If she couldn’t even deal with Goldsworth, she doubted she had any chance of fighting off the entity that she helped seal eighteen years ago.

The sound of Morgan coughing awkwardly nearly made Sara jump, and she berated herself for forgetting they were there. Morgan shuffled their weight between their feet and said, “Well, um… I’ll only ask you to stay in either your house of the office for a while. I’ll have to arrange something with someone who can deal with tracking magic.”

“In the meantime, you can use our phone’s GPS,” Shane suggested. It was reasonable, though not ideal, GPS lacked the alarm tracking magic could trigger if anything were to happen. Still, they had to make do.

Morgan nodded in agreement. They frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to subject you to this, but…”

“We understand,” Sara assured. “You have to take precautions. The case takes priority.”

Morgan let out a breath, looking relieved. “I’ll deal with the papers involving all of this. I’ll get back to you soon.”

“Thank you,” Shane said with a slight nod. “We’ll try to figure this out as much as we could, too.”

Morgan nodded them a goodbye. At the last second, just before they stepped out of the room, Ryan called out, “See you later, man.”

Morgan paused at the door. “Ah. See you later, Bergara.” Somehow, they managed to sound unsure enough that Sara almost wanted to design them a calming sigil. They hovered for a moment, nodded again, and slipped out of the room.

Sara watched them as they closed the door behind their back. She pursed her lips. Should she design a new sigil to keep them all safe? Her current sigils were strong, but evidently some spirits were still able to get through. Maybe if she could create a web of sigils, merging them together into a new one? But no, that also depended on her own power level. Additionally, creating an overly intricate sigil could compromise its function. She didn’t want to create some sigil version of a glass cannon version of what was supposed to be a warding sigil.

“Sara?” came Ryan’s soft voice, and Sara turned. When her eyes met his, he licked his lips and said, “I’m sorry I called you useless. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Sara stared and sighed. “I’m more upset that you called yourself useless.”

Ryan wrinkled his nose. “That’s because I can’t do anything.”

She shook her head, sighing again. “Just rest, Ryan.”

Ryan didn’t even respond. He was out like a light before her sentence was finished. Sara found herself studying his features and inwardly wincing when she noticed the dark circles around his eyes. Her fingers tapped against the pen she was still gripping.

“You have your thinking face on,” Shane commented, almost offhandedly, but the thoughtful glint of his eyes betrayed his tone.

Sara was silent for a moment before she simply said, “I’m warding this room off so neither you, Ryan, or any malicious entity could come in or go out. It’s not going to be strong because I only have sticky notes and none of my usual pre-prepared supplies, but it’s going to have to hold.”

Shane stared at her. “When will the wards be put down?”

“When Morgan’s got that tracking spell, probably,” Sara answered.

Shane looked at his feet, thinking, and nodded. He looked back up and met Sara’s eyes. “Do you need help putting up the wards? I can at least stick the notes where they should stick.”

* * *

 

Morgan took a lot of time to arrange the tracking spell, and by the third day Sara was already antsy. The situation had put them in practical house arrest even though Morgan hadn’t really formally put them through it. Their movements were limited to their apartments, work place, and the area around those locations.

She just got a lot more antsy when Ryan suddenly declared he was going to work from home and requested Sara to put up wards specifically made to keep _Ryan_ in, preferably with any and all malicious entity that just happened to have entered the wards.

“Let me get this straight,” Shane said with a long, loud sigh after Ryan voiced his request. “You’re basically asking Sara to create a jail specifically for you using her sigils.”

Ryan winced. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s not.” Ryan squared his shoulders and stared Sara right in the eyes. “It’s for everyone’s safety. Do you think you can make the wards?”

“I can do it,” Sara confirmed with a frown. “But that doesn’t mean I _want_ to do it.”

Ryan huffed. “Oh, come on. I’m thinking about people’s safety here.”

“You’re already inside a warded apartment, and you yourself have chosen to not get out of the house,” Sara reminded. “You’ve already practically holed yourself in here for days. You’ve chosen to not get out. I don’t see why I need to specifically ward the apartment to keep you in.”

“You don’t understand – “

“Exactly! I _don’t_!” Sara managed to keep her voice from breaking into a snap, but it was a close one. “You’re practically a prisoner sitting on top of the key to your cage, and you’re asking me to build a stronger cage. You don’t need one!”

“What part of _safety_ don’t you _get_?” Ryan asked irritably.

“What sort of _safety_ needs to be further enforced when you don’t even go out?” Sara spat back. She forced herself to calm down when she felt Shane’s hand on her shoulder, and she took a deep breath. “I’m not going to imprison you, Ryan. I don’t need to make wards to keep you inside when you’re already doing a stellar job of not running around outside in the first place.”

Ryan fell silent at that, but Sara could see the gears in his mind turning. She leaned back, putting her weight on one foot and waited. He did this sometimes, not explaining his point well in the first try and, when prompted, launched into an explanation.

She was not disappointed. Ryan looked up and met her eyes, and said, “That thing – whatever it was that possessed either me or Shane or us both – it’s already inside me once.” He licked his lips. “It’s probably different for Shane because he’s not a medium, but once a spirit, or anything, has been in me once, it’ll be able to get in again easily. It’s got access. It knows how to get in and out. And, well.., I can deal with spirits and maybe even grapple for control, but if it’s too strong then I won’t be able to fight it off.” He slumped. “Considering it probably killed Fischer, Dube, and Goldsworth, it’s probably too strong for me to fight off.”

“The apartment’s already warded off though,” Shane pointed out.

Ryan laughed dryly. “Goldsworth got through. If this thing killed him, it’s probably stronger. That’s why I’m asking for a stronger ward. If Sara specifically creates a ward for me or a malicious entity or a malicious entity inside of me, then she can focus her ward.”

“That doesn’t explain why I can’t make a ward specifically for a malicious entity,” Sara said.

“The entity is a separate being from me,” Ryan explained, “so it’s one thing. I’m another thing. When put together, we’re gonna be another thing entirely. I’ve done research on this. The best you can do is to create a ward for both me and a malicious entity plus us two when it’s possessing me.”

Sara pursed her lips. Her fingers twitched. “I still don’t like it.”

Ryan looked at her pointedly. “Do you see what I mean, at least?”

She sighed loudly. “Yes,” she admitted. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Her hand was already reaching into her bag for her notebook and practical sigil dictionary.

It took her hours, but she finally managed to create a ward like Ryan requested. She used her collection of chalks on the wooden floorboards of the living room, drawing an intricate pentagram with two overlaying five pointed stars. Five central sigils were drawn in the innermost part of the pentagram, each representing _imprison_ , _limit_ , _bind_ , Ryan, and _demon_ , which was Sara’s shorthand for anything and everything malicious. The pentagram was also lined with sigils to strengthen and protect it from outside forces. She created a line of sigils to the bathroom and kitchen so Ryan could still go there if he needed anything.

When she was done, she straightened up and wiped her sweaty forehead, smearing it with chalk dust. She frowned. On one hand, this was one of her best work yet; the complexity and intricacy of the pentagram was something none of her previous works could parallel, and to think she made it in such a short time, too. On the other hand… this was a prison. For her friend.

Her hand jerked suddenly. “Should I have made it so it could contain Shane, too?” she asked aloud, unsure who exactly she was talking to. “I don’t – I don’t want to make a prison for him, but…”

“I don’t really want to be stuck in there either,” Shane admitted. “And I’m not a medium, you know? Maybe if I just hang around in the pentagram I’ll be fine. It’s designed to keep malicious entities in as well, right?”

“It might not be as effective,” Sara said doubtfully. “It might not be effective at all.” She stared at her work and felt cold all of a sudden. “Maybe I should just erase all of this and draw everything from the start so it can contain Shane, too.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Sara,” Ryan hurriedly cut in. “Shane’s not a medium and he pretty much oozes life that spirits hate anyway, so he’s probably fine.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably be fine,” Shane agreed. “And also, _I don’t want to be stuck in there_. What if one of us needs to get the door, for whatever reason? Like, I don’t know, pizza or something.”

Sara sighed. “Yeah, okay. I think I need to rest anyway. Putting up a ward is tiring.”

Shane patted the couch nearest to him invitingly in response.

Sara shook her head. “I think I’m going to just go back to my own place. I kind of… don’t really want to look at this pentagram right now.”

“Is it safe for you to drive home, though?” Ryan asked. “You’re usually pretty tired after making wards.”

“I can use, I don’t know, Lyft. It’s fine.” Sara took out her phone and tapped around, looking for the online taxi app she saved on her phone. “Will you be fine here on your own?”

“We’ll be okay.” Shane pulled her into a one-armed embrace and rested his chin on her head. “Get home safe, okay?”

Sara nodded. “Don’t smear my pentagram with your feet.”

After they were done saying goodbye and Sara had ordered her ride, she went down the elevator and waited in the apartment lobby for the ride. She was too tired to offer anything other than a smile and a nod at the driver.

She still didn’t like that she had basically constructed a cage for her friend. She understood why Ryan thought it was necessary, but she still didn’t like it.

By the time she got home, the only thing that she cared about was trying to calm and ease her mind to distract her from the smell of chalk still lingering in her hair and the sensation of wood under her fingertips. Without much thought, she locked her door, stripped naked, and stepped into the shower, putting the water on the hottest setting she could stand. She wanted the smell of chalk to be gone an hour ago.

She didn’t know how long she spent in the shower, but by the time she was done the previously bright sky had gone dark. She wrapped herself in a towel and went to take fresh clothes and underwear, finally feeling calm enough to notice that she was hungry. She casually plucked an apple and bit into it on her way to the dresser. Her focus quickly changed from getting dressed into just eating – in the end, she took her time sucking the apple core dry in just her underwear, with the towel wrapped around her head so her hair didn’t drip water to the floor. When she was done with it, she put on an old shirt and shorts, then ordered takeouts.

Before long, her door was knocked, and she stared at it in surprise. That was the fastest delivery she’d ever seen.

Her back was warmer than usual, the painted bird at her back flaring heat like an alarm as she made her way to the door. She frowned, wondering what was wrong, and peeked out from the peephole.

Shane was outside the door, staring off to the corridor with a look she couldn’t place. She opened the door for him, staring at him in surprise.

“Shane? Why are you here?” she asked. “I thought you wanted to stay at Ryan’s today.”

She turned his head to her, movements measured. She froze when she saw his eyes.

They glinted red, like rubies.

She immediately slammed the door close as fast as she could, but Shane – or whatever it was that was inside of him – was faster. He pushed the door back open and stomped into the room, eyes glinting hungrily, and Sara stumbled inside, nearly losing her balance if it wasn’t for the shoe racks she conveniently put by the door. A few pairs of shoes rattled and fell.

“Shane, stop!” she yelled, even though she knew Shane wasn’t in control. She fumbled back as fast as she could, desperate to put distance between them. “Get out of him!”

The entity inside Shane simply slammed the door close and rushed to her, lunging. A glint of metal flashed in his hand. Sara managed to jump back in time, but her shirt was caught by the paring knife in Shane’s hand and was torn. She lost her footing and rolled on the floor with a cry, somehow managing to stop at a kneel, ready to bolt.

With her shirt torn, the symbol tattooed on her upper left chest was exposed to the air. Shane’s ruby red eyes flashed hungrily when they fell upon the symbol.

“The last pillar,” a low, guttural growl climbed out of Shane’s lips, and cold shivers seized Sara while her back flared heat like the bird longed to soar free and attack. Sweat rolled down her back. She wondered if she should have forgone the shower, earlier.

A hungry grin stretched over Shane’s lips. When he lunged, all Sara could do was try to defend herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, happy halloween! did you guys go trick-or-treating this fine night? got any candy you're willing to throw my way? cause i'll be honest here, halloween isn't a thing in my country so i don't really get the hype but man do i love sweets.
> 
> also, late update is late, and i can blame midterms for that. this chapter is pretty big in how it's basically the beginning of the end, though, so... brace yourselves, i guess? there are parts that i feel isn't really all that good, but i've been trying to edit this for like a week and my brain is mush.  
> the next chapter is currently being written, and here's hoping it can be uploaded soon!


	7. Chapter 7

Ryan let himself slump into the couch as soon as Sara was out of the door. The wards were in place, so that was one thing he got going for himself. He was safe, everyone else was safe; it was all good.

Beside him, Shane sank into the couch with a deep sigh. He looked at his taller friend and frowned.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Shane looked less… healthy, for some reason, when just moments earlier he seemed perfectly fine.

“I’m okay,” Shane replied as he propped his cheek on his hand. “I guess all of this is starting to get to me.” He paused, then added, “I hope Sara’s fine.”

“I’m sure she is,” Ryan reassured. “She just needs a break, I guess?”

“We all do. I know I do,” Shane sighed, and Ryan was inclined to agree. If he could just forget the whole thing with this case for just one day, he would be the peachiest peach of the bunch.

They slumped onto their on seats, Shane practically draping over the couch with his gangly limbs splaying everywhere, eyes glued to his phone screen. He didn’t seem to pay any attention to the Instagram photos he was browsing through, or the tweets he parsed around. He looked like he was just doing the motion, rather than actually wanting to browse social media.

Something niggled in Ryan’s mind. There was something about Shane, and he wasn’t sure what. He still looked tired, too tired, and dark circles hung about his eyes. They weren’t there before. Of course, it could just be the stress, but given that this was the guy who mocked demons and laughed in the face of death Ryan honestly didn’t think that was it. At least, not entirely.

Well, it wasn’t like he could just ask Shane point blank what was wrong with him. He already said that he needed a break, after all. Best to let him have what they could have now. Ryan would keep an eye on him though, just in case.

As minutes passed, though, Ryan couldn’t help but think that maybe he was just overthinking stuff. He didn’t know how Shane had been sleeping as of late, after all. It could be him actually needing serious rest. He ignored the niggling worry at the base of his stomach, took out his own phone, and started browsing.

Shane let out a muffled groan.

Ryan turned to him, wriggling in his seat like a worm to look over. “Hey, you okay?”

“’m fine, don’t worry,” Shane answered. He pulled his limbs in, no longer splaying all over the couch.

“If you got a stomachache or something you should get something for it,” Ryan said. He wriggled in his seat again, trying to get more comfortable.

Shane just hummed. “It’s fine. I think it’ll pass in a bit.”

“Suit yourself, I guess.”

Not even ten minutes after, Shane let out another muffled groan, softer this time.

Ryan actually sat up straight. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Hmm.”

“Talk to me, Shane,” Ryan coaxed. “What, should I take painkillers for you or something?”

“I’m _fine_ , Ryan.” Shane didn’t snap, not really, but it was a close thing. It surprised Ryan into silence, but soon he huffed.

“Geez, man, I was just trying to help,” he grumbled. “Maybe you _do_ need some serious break after all. Whatever, man.” With that, rather childishly, he flopped back to the couch.

The third time Shane made a sound, it wasn’t actually him; rather, his phone rattled as it dropped to the floor.

Ryan groaned. “Alright, should I get you that painkiller _now_?” he asked aloud.

Shane didn’t answer. At first Ryan was tempted to harrumph and get up to get painkiller and water for him anyway and shove them to his face, but then he realized he didn’t hear Shane shifting to retrieve his fallen phone. Instead what he could hear was Shane’s shallow, painful breaths. He sat up in alarm, turning to Shane. The lanky guy was curled up in the couch, impossibly small given the length of his limbs.

“Shane?” Ryan called. When Shane failed to respond, he stood and approached.

Shane’s breathing was labored, like he was in great pain. Worry curdled in Ryan’s stomach. Was he sick? Why didn’t he see any sign of this?

“Shane, c’mon. Should I call the ambulance?” he asked, kneeling by Shane so he could see his face better.

“N-no,” came Shane’s weak reply.

“Dude, you’re clearly not in a good shape.”

“G-get – “ Shane’s voice cut off, and he jerked, back arching against the couch as his eyes grew wide, wide, wide. Before Ryan could say anything, he fell back into the cushion and lay limp, eyes screwed shut, twitching.

“Shane? Shane, answer me.” Ryan placed a hand on Shane’s bicep to shake him, but instead Shane jerked so hard he slapped Ryan in the face. He fell onto his butt with an indignant sputter.

And then Shane opened his mouth, and a scream came out. Only it sounded like the sound of a brick grating against asphalt while a chainsaw went through an aluminum sheet in the background. The sound stabbed spikes into Ryan’s head, and for a moment all he could do was flinch and shrink into himself, wishing the sound was gone.

The scream died out. Ryan tentatively reached, trying to ignore the pulsing pain at his temples, at his finger brushed Shane’s hand.

Suddenly, snake-like, Shane’s hand struck and grabbed his, and Ryan let out a shriek. He looked at Shane, wondering if he should be scared or worried. Maybe both. Probably both.

“Dude, you’re starting to scare me,” he admitted as he tugged his hand. Shane didn’t let go. He only gripped Ryan’s wrist tighter, and slowly, he looked up to meet Ryan’s eyes.

Ryan couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him. Shane’s eyes were as red as blood.

Shane pulled him down, and he was much stronger than Ryan thought was possible. With a yelp, Ryan stumbled and almost flopped on top of Shane, but managed to stop his descend when he planted his free hand on the couch.

Shane’s red eyes met his, and Shane let out a growl. “You.”

“M-me?”

“Eighteen years.” Shane’s voice was a mix between a guttural growl and a hiss. “I shouldn’t have tried to take over you.”

Fear filled Ryan to the brim, flicking his flight response. He wrenched his hand away from Shane’s death grip and earned ugly red scratch marks where Shane’s nails dug into his skin. He scrambled away as fast as he could, but his back soon hit the invisible wall of the wards confining him. For a moment, all Ryan could hear was the sound of his heart beating against his ribcage.

“You’re not Shane,” was what came out of his mouth when Ryan found his voice.

The red-eyed entity within Shane just blinked. “I’m not.”

“You’re the one who’s been killing those people.”

Shane’s lips quirked into a smile, almost amused, somewhat smug. “I am.”

“Get out of Shane.” The demand left his lips before he could stop it, but once it was out, he gritted his teeth and took a breath. Getting the entity out of Shane was important. “Get out of him, right now.”

The entity stared at him. “Can’t. Sealed, eighteen years ago.”

“Eighteen – “ a strangled groan climbed out of Ryan’s throat. “What exactly happened eighteen years ago?” He shook his head. “No, that’s not important. Just… get out of Shane.”

“Can’t.” The entity tilted his head and grinned wide, too wide for any human being. “I’ll leave, though. Soon.” He stood up and headed to the door, but stopped just before he crossed the wards Sara created, and suddenly Ryan felt relief. The wards could keep demons in, which means people were safe. If this entity wanted to do anything, he’d have to get through the wards first.

“You can’t leave either,” Ryan said. “The ward keeps malicious entities in.”

To his surprise, the entity laughed. “The ward is not for me.”

“It’s made for malicious entities,” Ryan argued.

“Malicious entity, or you, or both malicious entity _and_ you,” the entity said. “Not an entity within your friend.”

Ryan could feel his face paling. “No.”

The entity turned to him and grinned, so similar to Shane that Ryan ached. “See you later, little medium. I might come for you once the last pillar is gone.”

Ryan scrambled to his feet and tried to grab onto Shane’s hand – feet – shirt – _anything_ – but he was too late. The entity crossed the threshold, and Ryan hit the barrier that trapped him in. He fell back with a cry.

The entity walked to the kitchen, casual in his movements and similar enough to Shane that Ryan was almost convinced it was actually Shane, playing a prank that had no humor whatsoever. But it wasn’t Shane. They felt too different to be the same person. He opened a drawer and took a knife at random, tapped its tip to check the sharpness, and strolled to the door with the casualness of a man about to take a walk at the park.

“Don’t you dare leave the apartment!” Ryan yelled, but the entity ignored him. “Get back here. get back here! You get out of him, now!”

The entity pulled the door open and – son of a dick – threw a smile at him. “Bye,” he said, throwing a happy little wave and – _son of a_ dick – winked.

“Shane!” Ryan roared loud enough to make his throat hurt, wishing somehow Shane was in there somewhere, fighting. The entity left without any more word, and the door swung close.

Ryan pounded at the barrier in frustration, grunting loudly. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t get out, not with the wards being made specifically for him or a malicious entity.

Shane was out there. Shane had the… whatever the entity was – Ryan had a sinking feeling it was an actual demon. Instead of him, the medium, the entity was within Shane. Obviously things were far messier than Ryan thought it was.

He punched the barrier so hard he felt the jarring tremble up to his shoulder. He hissed in pain. Was there no way to get out of here at all? He didn’t know much about sigil magic, and Sara was one of the best mages he knew. He wasn’t sure he could get out even if he smudged all of the sigils Sara drew in the wards, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to smudge them anyway. They were all out of reach, drawn outside of the invisible barrier they created.

Coldness descended on him, and he grew rigid immediately. Warmth leeched out of his fingertips as he slowly, carefully turned around to the couch he had abandoned when he tried to reach for Shane.

Sitting on the couch and leaning forward with his head propped on his hand was the bluish outline of a see-through person with spectral dark eyes that glimmered like starlight. His hair waved in the nonexistent wind. “You look like you need some help,” he said.

Ryan blinked. “Are you… Ricky Goldsworth?”

The spirit smiled. “I am. Hi, shorty.”

“I’m not short.”

“You used to be.”

Ryan frowned. “Do you not know of the concept of a child growing?” he blurted before he could stop himself, but to his chagrin Goldsworth just laughed. “What do you want, Goldsworth?”

Goldsworth rolled his eyes, the electric blue wisps that outlined his body flaring once in annoyance. “Don’t give me that tone. Your friend just got taken over by a demon and you’re trapped here. We both know you’re fucked. Long legs is most likely fucked, too. Hell, don’t even get me started on the little princess.” Ryan must have made a face, because Goldsworth immediately explained, “I meant that girl with curly purple hair. Sara.”

“Wait, Sara? Why is Sara in trouble?” Ryan asked in confusion, but as soon as the words left his mouth realization dawned. “Oh, shit. She’s the last pillar, isn’t she.”

That wasn’t a question, but Goldsworth nodded anyway. “Look, I know you probably don’t trust me, but believe it or not… I actually like you three. You’re all good kids. I want to help.”

“Okay, so start with telling me how to get out of the wards so I can stop that… thing inside Shane,” Ryan demanded.

Goldsworth floated closer to Ryan, and the medium failed to hide a flinch when the cold stabbed through his clothes. “I don’t see any weakness to be exploited in this pentagram. Do you?”

“No, but I’m not a mage.” Ryan gulped and wrung his hands, hoping to get warmth back to his fingertips. “Look, just tell me. Is there any way I can get out of here?”

“There’s one way I can think of.” Goldsworth eyed him, and Ryan felt unease rolled in his stomach. Goldsworth leaned in and said, “This pentagram is designed to keep you and demons in. but if you have a spirit inside of you, you’re not entirely _you_ , are you?”

Ryan flinched and reeled as far away from Goldsworth as he could, but his back hit the barrier. “What the fuck are you trying to say?” he snapped.

“I’m saying, if you let me in, I can get you out and we can save your friends,” Goldsworth answered bluntly. “I have no intention of taking over. I don’t want to redo the messy business of being alive again, not to mention I won’t be able to do anything fun in you anyway. But. I want to help. If I possess you, you become me, not you. If I share control, we’ll become _both_.”

“You’re asking me to let you possess me,” Ryan said.

“I am,” Goldsworth replied without missing a beat. “It’s the easiest and fastest way to get out of here that I can think of.”

“This pentagram is also made to keep malicious entities either in or out,” Ryan pointed out.

At this, Goldsworth actually laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re a medium, do I _feel_ like a malicious entity?”

Ryan opened his mouth to say yes, but he closed it with a click. The thing was, Goldsworth didn’t feel malicious. Powerful, yes, but Ryan couldn’t feel any sign of ill intent. He stared, still wary.

A smile, a little too wide for Ryan’s taste, made its way to Goldsworth’s lips. “Besides, I can see traces of people’s energy. I can find your friend a lot easier than you. If we’re lucky, we can get him before he reaches Sara’s place.”

Ryan pursed his lips. “If you possess me, I’d just end up being too tired to do anything. There’s the risk of you abandoning my body somewhere too.”

“Excuse you. I’m a criminal, not a barbarian.” Goldsworth shook his head, looking annoyed. “Of course I won’t abandon your body somewhere. Besides, sharing control won’t drain you that much.”

“Can you actually share controls with the original owner?” Ryan asked, genuine curiosity shining in his eyes.

Goldsworth huffed. “Oh, please, I’m no amateur. I know how to treat my hosts.”

Ryan grimaced. He was, to say the least, conflicted. On one hand, Goldsworth had already taken over him once already. He was powerful enough to break through the protective layers of his apartment, and he was able to break through this pentagram, and there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t break his words and decide to stay inside.

On the other hand… he asked for permission this time, which meant Ryan would have at least a modicum of control. Besides, Shane was in trouble. Sara could be in trouble. And if the demon was set loose for real, everyone would be in trouble.

Really, there wasn’t much of a choice at all.

Ryan stood up, taking a deep breath and staring Goldsworth in the eyes. “Give me your word that you will get out once the business is done, and you will not harm anyone.”

“I give you my word,” Goldsworth answered without missing a beat.

Ryan took another deep breath and nodded. “Okay… okay.” He licked his lips and braced himself. “I invite you in.”

Goldsworth grinned wide, wide, impossibly wide, showing a row of impossibly white teeth that contrasted starkly against the electric blue that outlined his being. For a moment, he hung in midair, pulsing blue light and arctic cold air into the room, before he blitzed into whizzing blue light that slammed straight into Ryan’s chest.

The cold consumed Ryan from the inside out, spreading ice into his veins and dark into his vision. It was as pleasant an experience as being possessed ever was – which meant it wasn’t pleasant at all – but at least Ryan was aware of it, and he knew he could stop it if he wanted to. He could retract the invitation if he tried.

He didn’t.

He felt a flare of Goldsworth’s awareness settling in, and for a moment their conscious mind blurred together. Ryan caught a hint of Goldsworth’s determination and anticipation squeezing in before it settled.

The cold was almost overpowering, and darkness closed in on him. He felt like a drowning man grappling for anything, anything to keep afloat, and for a moment panic seized, and he wondered if Goldsworth actually did try to take full control after all.

But then suddenly he found himself afloat once again, the arctic cold no more than a hint of the past. He blinked a few times, adjusting. He was back in control.

Only… he wasn’t. Not really. He held control, but so did Goldsworth – it felt like they were both gripping the steering wheel of the car and were synched enough to know what each other were thinking that they could drive together without risking a crash. For the most part, anyway. They could share, but they were still clumsy, both unused to sharing the steering wheel in order to drive together.

_And he said he’s no amateur_ , Ryan thought to himself.

_Excuse_ you _. Sharing control isn’t something easy to do, especially when the medium in question has never done it before._

Ryan froze. _Goldsworth?_

He could _feel_ Goldsworth’s amusement even before the words floated into the forefront of his mind. _What, did you forget we’re sharing a head now? Come on now, shorty. Surely it’s not as surprising as you thought._

“I’ve never done this before,” Ryan mumbled. “I’ve never… shared with any spirit. They mostly just take over.”

He felt his tongue click without his command. “Well,” Goldsworth said, and it was _fucking weird_ to feel and hear himself speak without him willing it and not feel invaded by the one controlling his mouth. “Consider this a learning experience, then. If you can find a spirit you can trust that’s not interested in crossing over, you can probably have them hang around so you can share control like this. There’s a lot of benefit, too. You’ll find out soon.” Goldsworth stretched, and Ryan let him take control of his limbs. “Now, then. Let’s go find your friend.”

Goldsworth walked to the edge of the ward and held up their shared hand, pressing against the barrier. There was a resistance at first, but soon the barrier melted away like thin ice under spring sun. Goldsworth crossed the threshold and viciously scrubbed at the lines and a few sigils on the floor to break the pentagram.

_Phone?_  Goldsworth asked.

_In pocket,_ Ryan answered. He seized control over his limbs and went to take his keys and wallet, wondering what more he would need.

_Forget about the others. Getting to your friend is more important._

Realizing Goldsworth was right, Ryan quickly exited the apartment, power walking through the corridors to get to the parking lot and get his car. When he saw said car, however, he cursed loudly.

“Son of a _fish_!” he yelled. “The bastard slashed my tire!”

_Well, damn. Apparently he’s pretty effective._

Ryan let out a frustrated growl and turned to the nearest exit, running to the streets. The demon took Shane’s car. He would be fast.

An idea struck, and he took out his phone when he felt Goldsworth’s agreement and approval. With quick swipes and taps, he dialed a number. Not long after the call went through, it was answered.

“Hello, Detective – “

“Jones-Zhang!” Ryan cut them off. “This is Ryan.”

“Bergara?” Ryan could hear the confusion in Morgan’s voice. “Why are you calling me? I’ve told you, I’ll tell you once the tracking system is figured out. We’re actually in finishing process right now.”

“Never mind that,” Ryan said. “Listen, things are getting hairy right now. Do you know Sara’s address?”

“Uh, no?”

Ryan quickly rattled off Sara’s address, impatiently waiting when Morgan wrote it down. “Anyway, send reinforcement to her apartment. Get some mages capable of banishing demons and combat from my agency, too, while you’re at it.”

“What – Bergara, what’s this about?”

“No time to explain. It’s an emergency. Just do what I asked, I’ll explain later.” Without offering more explanation, Ryan cut off the call. He was about to shove it down his pocket when Goldsworth suddenly seized control of his hands, making him stumble and almost drop his phone.

_What are you doing?_ he demanded.

_Are you thinking about going_ on foot _? The place isn’t exactly near. I’m ordering us a lift._ It was almost alarming, how Goldsworth was able to quickly use his phone to get a lift, but then Ryan remembered Goldsworth took over his body for a whole weekend and spent some time texting with Shane without Shane ever noticing it wasn’t Ryan. He probably knew Ryan’s phone inside out by now. It made him uncomfortable, but he could deal with uncomfortable. Just as long as he could make sure his friends were safe.

Tip, tap, swipe, and Goldsworth had gotten them a lift. They barely had to wait thirty seconds for the car them, with them being right at the side of the road. Ryan slipped into the car with the patience of a man banging the door of an occupied toilet, telling the driver, “Excuse me, I’m in a hurry. Please drive as fast as you can.”

The driver, a woman in her mid-twenties, stared from the rearview mirror for a bit. “Alright, but I’m not breaking speed limit.”

“That’s okay. Just… be fast, please.”

To her credit, the lady did drive pretty fast considering L.A traffic in general, but it was still not fast enough for Ryan. He only managed to stop himself from tapping nervously because Goldsworth quickly took control over his limbs precisely so he would settle. It didn’t quiet the thoughts, though, and he found himself wondering and worrying about Shane and Sara.

_Stop that,_ Goldsworth scolded. _You’re starting to make me worry, too._

Two thoughts came and warred for attention. _Wait, what_ and _as you should be_ crashed against each other in Ryan’s mind.

_Yeesh. Of course I’m worried_ before _, but you’re worrying to the point of making yourself unable to think, and it’s starting to get to me._ Ryan got the impression that Goldsworth was internally sighing. _What, did you think what you’re feeling won’t affect me?_ We’re sharing a head _, how many times do I have to tell you?_

“It’s not like I’ve done this before,” Ryan muttered softly.

“Sorry, what?” the driver asked. She spared Ryan a glance before her eyes returned to the road.

“No, sorry. It’s nothing. Just talking to myself.” Any other day, Ryan would probably laugh at that excuse. This time it just kind of make him feel slapped. It was just so weird, to actually share control over his body with a spirit. And a spirit of a serial killer, no less.

_Kid, you’re making it look like I’m going to kill someone any second or take control of you. I’ve told you I won’t do that._

Ryan chose to ignore him.

“We’re here, by the way,” the driver said as she pulled over. It snapped Ryan out of his thoughts, and he quickly paid for the ride and basically sprinted away to get to Sara’s apartment as fast as his feet could carry him. The whole time, Goldsworth was silent, but Ryan could feel him nudging, _come on, come on, we don’t know what’s happening, we don’t know if he’d done something_. So Ryan ran faster, ignoring how his muscles strained against the chore.

When he reached Sara’s door, he didn’t bother knocking. He swung the door open, not even surprised to find it unlocked, and barged in. He froze when he saw what was happening inside.

Sara was kneeling by the coffee table in the living room area, hand clutching the end of the glass so hard her knuckles turned paper-white. Scraps of burnt paper littered the floor, mingling with ashes, the smell permeating the air and mingled with Sara’s strong paint-and-markers that always rose whenever she used her magic. The walls looked strangely bare, and it took Ryan a moment to realize that most of Sara’s custom-made wall stickers were gone.

In the middle of it all stood Shane – or, more accurately, the entity within him. His red eyes gleamed against the harsh lamplight, and he gripped the knife he took from their kitchen with vengeful grip. Scraps of paper pooled around him.

“Ryan?!” Sara squeaked when she saw him. “Why are you here? How’d you get out?”

Goldsworth chose that moment to flare his aura. “Hi, little princess. Looks like you’re in a pinch.”

Sara gaped at him. “You’re possessing him?”

Goldsworth said “correction, we’re sharing control” at the same time as Ryan said “no, we’re sharing”, and the resulting sentence was something closer to “ _garble_ sharing _garble_ ”. Ryan coughed and corrected, “Yeah, we’re sharing control.”

“How is that even – “ Sara cut off her words with a shriek when Shane came dangerously close to slashing her arm off with the knife. She managed to get away somehow, but it was at the cost of her shirt ripping. She winced. With a swift, fluid movement, she grabbed a sketchbook from under the coffee table and flipped to a random page, then pressed her palm to it. The scent of paper and marker flared above the smell of smoke, and birds the size of butterflies surged out of the sketchbook to mob Shane. He stumbled back and let out an annoyed growl, whipping the knife about to get rid of the birds. When they got slashed, the birds fell to the floor, no more than lifeless scraps of paper. When Shane decided to grab the birds instead, flame burst from his palm and burnt the birds to ashes.

“Ry, now that you’re here, I need you to distract him,” Sara said urgently as she rose, half-crawling and half-running to the opposite corner of the room. “I’ll try to get the demon out, but I need you to hold him back. And, you know, get him to _not_ kill me.”

“He said he was sealed!” Ryan yelled as he turned to Shane, wondering how to tackle the issue.

“Then I’ll try to suppress him or something. Anything to stop this.”

_How do I do this, how do I do this,_ Ryan muttered inwardly, staring at Shane. He was still trying to grab birds.

Goldsworth, though, chose to take control for the moment and decided to tackle the issue in the most literal way possible; when Shane was using his hand to grab and not to slash, he rammed the taller man in the stomach and bowled him over, and quickly wrestled the knife out of his grip.

The entity within Shane snarled, and Ryan was suddenly grateful that it was Goldsworth who was in control and not him, because he would have frozen at the entirely alien face Shane was sporting.

“That’s cute,” was all Goldsworth responded with as he tried to pin Shane to the ground. Which was a lot harder than it sounded, because Shane was a big guy and as tall as a sasquatch, and he was strong, and the entity within him was even stronger. It didn’t matter that Ryan had been hitting the gym; the entity’s strength was inhuman.

The entity suddenly leaned forward, his nose nearly touching Ryan’s. “Ryan Bergara,” he purred, voice suddenly soft and welcoming. “Don’t you want to know what happened eighteen years ago? I can tell you. I can tell you _everything_.”

Ryan would have released him then and there if he had been the one in control of his limbs. Goldsworth simply gripped harder, glaring into the red eyes.

“I can answer any question you ask,” the entity said, words sweet and enticing like poisoned needles covered in sugar and cinammon. “Anything at all. Your old, unsolved cases will all be solved. Just let go of me, and I can answer any and every question you ask.”

“Shut up,” Goldsworth growled, pressing his forehead to Shane’s in order to push him down, since both his hands were occupied.

The entity caught on quickly and smiled. “Ah, Ricky Goldsworth, old friend,” he said, voice milk and honey laced with arsenic. “I’m glad you can join us here. Don’t you want to live again, Goldsworth? Don’t you want to be free? I can rid you of the boy and you can resume life as if nothing happened.”

The offer sent fearful cold all over Ryan’s being, but Goldsworth just laughed mockingly at the entity. He leaned in, pushing even harder on Shane’s forehead, teeth gritted and dark eyes piercing. “Listen to me, demon. There’s only one thing I want, and it’s the one thing you won’t give me. So you better shut the hell up, or _I’ll shut your mouth for you_.”

 It struck Ryan, then, that he didn’t know why Goldsworth offered to help so readily. Suspicion spiked immediately, and he got a rush of annoyance in response.

_Look, I didn’t let my detective getting dragged to literal hell and dying in prison just to see the people we stuck our neck out for all those years ago die like some extras in a movie. I’m not harming you or your friends._

_How do I know?_ Ryan asked, nearly desperate.

_You’re a medium, gauge me._

There was reluctance, but Ryan complied. He poked and nudged, deep within his own mind while letting Goldsworth keep control of his limbs. There was a wall of sorts that kept them separated, and with a jolt, Ryan realized it was his.

Goldsworth never put up walls and pretenses, everything had always been bare to be seen. Ryan’s own reluctance to trust was what made him unable to tell if Goldsworth had ulterior motives or not.

Ryan braced himself and tore the wall down, and he was immediately flooded by Goldsworth’s thoughts and feelings, impressions and sensations rolling over him that he felt bowled over. It felt like a part of their minds had merged together, and it made the transition between switching controls easier, smoother, the exchange of thoughts faster, borne from impressions rather than words. Ricky’s presence shifted, holding him back up, and his thoughts poured over.

Ryan found himself gasping inwardly. As it turned out, Ricky _did_ have ulterior motive after all.

What the hell. How would that even work?

A wave of impressions flooded Ryan’s mind, along with feelings and blitzes of memories that framed a concept that formed an understanding of _you could’ve found all of this out if you had gauged right from the get-go, kid_ without any word whatsoever. There was a hint of Ricky’s amusement, tinged with frustration.

Well, he didn’t know. This was a learning curve. A giant learning curve that he never knew he’d ever get.

Feelings of curiosity and desperate hope came with a flurry of strands of memories that was broken apart at the joints to make a question that came much faster than any word would. Ryan translated it into Ricky’s question, _Will you help me?_ and understood it despite the lack of words in the question.

After a moment of deliberation, Ryan answered with a yes. _But how?_

The brief conversation had taken their attention away, and the entity took his chance. With a swift swipe, he threw Ryan off of him, and Ryan fell, hitting the coffee table with his back, and his head met the glass with a _thwack_. He cried in pain, dazed, and knew immediately that he couldn’t count on Ricky to save his ass this time – he was just as dazed as he was.

Still, he forced himself to move and get up, swaying dangerously on his feet, looking around through blurred vision. He could make out the shape of Shane, standing above the small Sara, knife raised. Sara didn’t know he was there. Her attention was absorbed by the pentagram she was making.

“Sara!” he called in panic, stumbling forward in a cloud of dizziness. “ _Shane!_ ”

There was a shift, and it looked like Sara had reacted in time, as there was no pained scream or any hint of red. He could hear Sara grunt loudly, most likely trying to wrestle Shane, but Ryan knew from experience it wasn’t really a feasible thing to do, especially considering the size difference between Sara and Shane. The knife went dangerously close to Sara’s chest.

And then, suddenly the world expanded and imploded, and Ryan fell to his knees. He could feel Ricky pulling at him, trying to keep him afloat, but thousands of memories and impressions surged up and swallowed him whole, pulling him in and dragging Ricky along mercilessly. Ryan was blindsided immediately, finding himself trying to reorient and make sense of the world around him, unsure of where he really was…

Cold hovered behind him, and he turned, and something tackled him.

The tree he was climbing was a tall one. There wasn’t much he could do to fight gravity when it made its claim, and he fell when he lost his footing, the _something_ he could yet see slithering into him with cold, cold, greedy fingers, snagging his mind like vines and burying him in darkness.

There were bricks under the tree.

He crashed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who got swamped by uni assignments? this gal!! also, when i thought i could post this chapter my laptop suddenly wouldn't start because of programs i had to install due to said assignments. and it was for classes i don't enjoy and belatedly realize i didn't even need to take in the first place! damn you, statistics and media research method classes.
> 
> anyway, the way the sharing control thing works is very much heavily inspired by the book Ptolemy's Gate, from Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud, in which a magician summoned a djinn into his body.


	8. Chapter 8

Shane remembered being a teen, just walking out of school and already internally whining about having to do homework, and hearing his parents hunched over a phone. His father was talking quietly into it, and his mother pressed as closely as she could to him as if trying to hear whatever was being said.

He glanced questioningly to his brother, who was for some reason eating cereal right out of its box like he was eating potato chips. Scott just shrugged, and it was obvious that he was just as clueless as Shane. So Shane did as anyone would do and deposited his things in his room, then joined Scott in the kitchen to eat cereal in the middle of the day because time is an illusion and any food is breakfast, lunch, and dinner food all at once if you tried hard enough, but out of a bowl and with milk because he wasn’t a friggin’ heathen.

He remembered boarding a plane to L.A that night, in the middle of the school week, with his father. His mother stayed behind with Scott. His father would place his warm hand on the small of his back, warmth seeping into his skin through the layers of his clothes. His father may claim his protective magic could only defend Shane from mosquitoes, but at that time Shane only felt safe.

“There’s a boy who needs your help,” he’d been told, and Shane immediately agreed to help. Why wouldn’t he? If there was someone who needed help and he could help them, then he would help.

He remembered getting to L.A and being driven to a house at a quiet neighborhood, with trees lining the streets and lampposts shaped in an almost artsy way. His father parked the rented car in front of a house. Three other cars were also parked at the vicinity of the house. His father motioned silently to the house, and they entered.

This was when Shane met the pretty Indian lady that was Zara Dube, the happy-go-lucky hippie guy in tie-dye shirt that was Nathan Fischer – Nate Fisher, at the time – and the artist three years younger than himself that was Sara, along with her mother. He immediately found himself drawn to her and talked easily to her if only because she was closest in age to him compared to the others. Eleven-year-old was like a toddler in Shane’s fourteen-year-old mind, but talking to her was still easier than talking to Fisher, who was twenty four. Besides, the fact that she was shyly but curiously asking about high school made it easy to just… talk.

His father had been talking to Sara’s mother and the mother of the boy that he had been told needed his help, and Shane remembered thinking she looked so very tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked like she couldn’t decide between bursting into tears and dropping to the floor asleep.

“My husband’s family has always been sensitive to the spirits, but mediums are rare,” the woman said as she rubbed her eyes. “We thought our children would only be sensitive. I didn’t think Ryan would be a medium. I didn’t foresee this.”

“What about the brother?” Sara’s mother asked.

The mother sniffed and smiled. “He seemed to have inherited my knack for visions. He’s the one who foresaw your son and the girl.” She glanced up. “He’s upstairs. I don’t think he understands exactly what’s going on, but seeing an exorcism performed to his older brother sure wouldn’t do him any favors.”

They talked a bit more, but Shane didn’t listen, distracted when Fisher and Dube decided to talk to both he and Sara, asking them about what they could do. Fisher, apparently, walked door-to-door doing cleansing while Dube helped out a lot with séances. Soon the conversation devolved into how Dube found Sara’s name beautiful and the meaning of names. Which was a riveting conversation, but Shane couldn’t help but think they were just trying to delay having to do… whatever was needed to help the boy Shane’s father told him about.

The relative peace shifted into curious silence when a pair of men walked in, cuffed to each other at the wrists and bickering about something. Shane couldn’t hear them clearly; they were whisper-shouting loud enough to be heard but not enough to be understood. One had dark hair and gleaming dark eyes, wearing black shirt and dusty jeans. The other one had sandy hair and wore trench coat.

The mother stepped closer to them, stopped, and frowned. “Mr. Tinsley?”

The man in trench coat snapped to attention. “Mrs. Bergara! Hello. Sorry, I had to bring an extra with me.”

“Hi!” the other man greeted. He then turned to Tinsley. “You’re referring to me as an _extra_ , Tins? I’m hurt.”

Tinsley gritted his teeth. “Don’t worry, he shouldn’t mess with the ritual. He knows better than to mess with that.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tinsley… but who is he?” Bergara asked. Her confusion was clearly shared by everyone in the room.

Tinsley sighed. “Goldsworth, this is Bergara, the client I was telling you about. Bergara, this is Ricky Goldsworth, someone I’ve been chasing for a while. I’m sorry I have to lug him around, but I can’t afford to lose him again.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bergara,” Goldsworth greeted cheerfully.

In spite of the cheerfulness Goldsworth oozed in spades, Bergara reacted violently, reeling back as though slapped. The other adults offered similar reaction, with Fisher inching ever so slightly to the door, Dube and Sara’s mother angling themselves to stand in front of Sara, and Shane’s father gripping his shoulder protectively.

Shane wasn’t surprised. He remembered hearing Goldsworth’s name in the evening news. The details escaped him, but he remembered the _serial killer_ bit clearly enough. Sara obviously did, too, as she took a step back and gripped her mother’s hand tight.

To everyone’s obvious chagrin, Goldsworth laughed. “Don’t be scared, I won’t bite. Tinsley crafted a seal for me that suppressed my abilities.” He grew somber. “Besides, I have standards. I’m all for helping others, and I wouldn’t want to let a boy have his body stolen by some spirit who doesn’t want to move on.”

“You kill someone via astral possession,” Tinsley grumbled. “You literally steal people’s body.”

“Only with their permission! I wouldn’t have killed them if they didn’t want to.”

“That’s _assisting suicide_ and that’s just as bad as _outright killing_ , Goldsworth.”

Goldsworth threw his hands up, dragging Tinsley’s hand up along with his motion. “I’m only helping! I’m doing what they wanted to do in the first place!” he nearly whined, and Shane got the distinct impression that this was an argument they had had before.

Before he could think about it, Shane blurted, “Why would you think killing them counts as helping?”

Goldsworth’s gaze zeroed in on him immediately, and Shane’s father pulled him closer.

“I think,” Sara spoke up quietly, “if your idea of helping is by killing, then… it wouldn’t be helping at all.”

“Yeah, better to talk to them first,” Shane agreed.

“And bring them cookies and milk,” Sara added. “Cookies and milk always helps.” She glanced at Shane, and he nodded his agreement.

Goldsworth stared at them critically, leaning to Tinsley in thought. When Tinsley pushed him idly in mild annoyance, he shifted on his feet. “I don’t think anyone has brought it up so nicely before,” he said. He smiled, and to Shane’s surprise it looked warm, unlike the overly cheerful grin he offered earlier. “I think I like you two.”

Sara shrunk back into the shadow of Dube’s arm. Shane found himself leaning back into his father’s chest. He didn’t know if Goldsworth’s opinion of him was meant to be good or not, but he honestly didn’t know if he was supposed to be glad a serial killer liked him enough to declare his opinion into a room full of people.

The awkward silence that ensued was broken when the sound of footsteps padding down the stairs grew nearer and nearer to the ground floor. They turned to the stairs, where a man emerged, holding a boy about Sara’s age in his arms. The boy’s eyes were open halfway, staring at nothing through glazed eyes that seemed to change color every now and then. He sagged in the man’s hold like a sack of potatoes, lips parted, sometimes whispering something unintelligible that stopped midword before jumping into a new word altogether. A sigil glowed faintly at his forehead, and even afar Shane could recognize it as an extremely powerful sealing and protective spell.

Goldsworth hissed loudly enough to draw looks. To Shane’s surprise, he seemed genuinely disturbed. “Holy crow. That feels _bad_.”

“What happened to him?” Shane asked.

“Shane, I told you on the way,” his father chided softly.

“I heard that someone needed help and I kind of didn’t really listen to the rest,” Shane admitted. It was something he needed to fix in the future.

The man holding the boy shifted his grip. “Ryan is… sensitive to spirits. He always has been.” He sighed. “It turns out he is sensitive because he’s a medium. A few days ago, a spirit took him over while he was hiding on a tree when playing hide and seek. We didn’t know he was possessed at first – we thought it was concussion. We tried to drive the spirit out once it was apparent it was a possession and not concussion, but no matter what we did it wouldn’t let go. It didn’t help that he _was_ actually concussed, though it wasn’t serious. The time it took to heal the concussion apparently solidified the spirit’s hold.” He glanced to Mrs. Bergara. “We knew we had to conduct a ritual to actually drive the spirit out, then. My wife saw Zara and Nate in her vision. Our younger son saw Sara and Shane. We contacted Tinsley for his expertise in the supernatural.”

“We’ve cleared our basement so we can conduct the ritual,” Mrs. Bergara said. “Please. Ryan can’t hold on much longer.”

“I’m not surprised he can’t,” Goldsworth spoke up, and it surprised Shane that he sounded genuinely regretful. “The spirit that’s taking over is _nasty_. I think he honestly believes he can live again if he can successfully take control.” He looked over at Mr. Bergara, stepping ahead and holding out his hand. The only reason why he hadn’t gotten closer was because Tinsley held him back. “I’m sorry, but may I prod around to see how bad it is? If it’s not too bad I might be able to try to take over to drive out the spirit so you can exorcise it properly without exhausting the boy.”

Mr. Bergara shifted back, holding Ryan closer to his chest. “I heard the conversation earlier from upstairs. You’re a _criminal_ whose crime is _taking over people’s body_. What reason do I have to believe you?”

“For one thing, I have standards,” Goldsworth answered dryly. “He’s a child. I’m not about to kill a child. For another, I have no reason to take over. Why would I want to take over a child’s body?”

“I can limit his movements, if you’re worried,” Tinsley offered with a sigh. “I bound his soul with me so I could track him. This close, I should be able to limit what he does.”

Mr. Bergara looked like he wanted to protest again, but Mrs. Bergara cut in with a quick, decisive “Do it.”

Mr. Bergara whirled to look at her. “Honey – “

“I can’t take it anymore,” Mrs. Bergara admitted, and her face scrunched up as lone tear fell down her cheek, and Sara’s mother was at her side in an instant. “I can’t bear seeing my child like this anymore. Please stop it. Help my son.”

Shane turned to Goldsworth to study his face. He was carefully neutral, glancing to Tinsley quietly.

“What?” Tinsley asked, almost irritably.

“You’re the one who’s still suppressing me,” Goldsworth answered. “You can at least lessen the spell. I can’t do anything with your spell being so tight.”

Tinsley huffed and whistled a low, reverberating tone. Something shimmered underneath the sleeve of Goldsworth’s shirt, somehow visible in all the way that it was invisible. Shane wasn’t sure how it worked. Tinsley’s magic felt almost weird to him in a way he couldn’t describe.

Goldsworth flexed his wrists and smiled at Tinsley. “Trust fall,” he declared out of the blue, and all of a sudden his body went limp. A bluish, somewhat see-through outline of himself appeared above his swaying body, tethered by the ankle by glowing blue-white chord.

Tinsley managed to catch Goldsworth’s falling body and let him lean into him. He looked up at Goldsworth’s outline with a scowl. “Warn me before you do something like this,” he grumbled.

“Aww, Tins, but I did,” Goldsworth replied, his tone decidedly teasing. His voice sounded oddly echo-y, vibrating in a plane Shane couldn’t quite reach.

“Don’t make me drop you,” Tinsley warned.

“You wouldn’t,” Goldsworth said cheekily, and he turned to Mr. Bergara without waiting for a response. Shane followed his movement, noting how the chord on his ankle stretched indefinitely, and caught the sight of Tinsley lowering Goldsworth to the ground begrudgingly.

The blue outline of Goldsworth’s astral body hovered over Ryan, with Mr. Bergara staring at him warily. Goldsworth held his hand out, poking at the sigil at Ryan’s forehead. The boy shivered and curled into himself.

Goldsworth blinked, burst into mist, and enveloped Ryan’s body, seeping into his chest and disappearing in a blink of an eye. Ryan glowed a pulsing blue for a moment, whimpering.

And then he screamed, except he sounded like literally dozens of people at once. The sound startled everyone in the room. Blue light glowed from Ryan’s skin, and suddenly it disappeared as blue-white shot like lightning into Goldsworth’s body, blitzing through the path traced by the blue-white chord. As it slammed into Goldsworth’s chest, he gasped and gagged, pushing a hand into his mouth and suppressed a scream of his own. His face was pale, and his eyes darkened to the point of looking like a pair of midnight starless sky.

“Holy mother of fuckers,” he said breathlessly, and then gagged again. He held himself rigidly and scrambled up, only to fell back when Tinsley didn’t stand when he did. Tinsley didn’t even tug at the cuffs that tied them together. Goldsworth barely seemed to be aware of it.

By Sara’s side, Dube shifted. “I felt something,” she said, sounding disturbed. “I didn’t feel it before.”

“I did, too,” Fisher added. He frowned. “It felt dark. And… a lot. There’s a lot.”

Sara looked at him. “A lot… what?”

“I don’t know,” Fisher shook his head. “But there’s a lot.”

“There’s something else, beside the spirit inhabiting the boy,” Goldsworth spoke up, words racing until it was difficult to understand. “Something dark, something heavy. It carries remnants of many spirits. Not the actual spirits. Just remnants. I don’t know what it is, I frankly don’t know if I want to know, but that _thing_ is bad news and I don’t know what it wants to do with the boy but I’m sure I won’t like it.”

“Can you do something about the possession?” Mrs. Bergara asked. “If the possession is resolved, the entity should be gone, too, won’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Goldsworth shook his head. He shivered. “All I know is I don’t like it. It tried to drag me in.”

Mr. Bergara’s face was grim. “The ritual it is, then.”

They somberly followed Mr. Bergara to the basement, where a basic pentagram had been drawn. Dube and Fisher immediately worked to strengthen the pentagram, pulling Sara along to make use of her drawing magic. Shane stood awkwardly at the side, feeling like he couldn’t contribute anything and wishing his father was downstairs with him. He and Sara’s mother had stayed at the living room to make sure there was as little outside influence to the ritual as possible, and Mr and Mrs. Bergara would join them later when the ritual commenced. Apparently, his sensitivity to spirits may either cause a disturbance or draw the malicious entity to him, which wasn’t exactly ideal, and her presence may add complication because her powers to see visions of times that was not _now_ could mingle with the magic and cause accidents.

Goldsworth, meanwhile, had been asked to stay. Partly because he was still cuffed to Tinsley, and partly because his ability to astral project may be useful in restraining whatever would come out of Ryan.

Which would explain why he was down there. It didn’t exactly explain why he chose to sit on the floor right next to Shane, letting his hand dangle up and ignoring Tinsley’s uncomfortable look at the way the metal cuffs dug into their skin. Goldsworth had a hand propping his chin, fingers hiding his mouth, eyes calculating as he followed the way Sara flitted about drawing symbols on the floor with chalks.

“Fascinating,” he said suddenly, eyes sparkling. He turned to Shane. “Do you know how old she is? The little girl?”

“Sara?” Shane asked. “Eleven, I think?”

The sparkle in Goldsworth’s eyes seemed to intensify. “ _Fascinating_ ,” he remarked again. He looked up at Tinsley, pulling their connected hands to draw his attention. “Hey, Tins, maybe you can nab her if you want a protégé or something. She certainly has enough power and skill despite being really young. Imagine meeting her as a young adult. She would be a holy terror. She’ll be as skillful as you!”

“She’s too young for me to ask something like that to her,” Tinsley answered. “Besides, I don’t know if she’d be interested in my line of work.”

“You’re no fun,” Goldsworth grumbled. He turned to Shane. “What about you? What can you do?”

Shane blinked. “I’m… not sure, actually. I don’t know why I’m here. I just want to help.”

Goldsworth’s piercing eyes scanned him. “Hmmm. Maybe you just haven’t found it yet. You have something, but I’m not exactly sure what.”

Shane stared. “You can tell?” He tilted his head. “You can sense if someone has an ability or not, and you can astral project, and you can possess people?”

“I can also see a little bit of people’s aura and know a thing or two about protective magic and how to go around them,” Goldsworth added. At Shane’s incredulous look, he shrugged. “I’ve always been somewhat of a jack of all trades. I’m best at soul stuff, though.”

Sara waddled over to them, then, looking tired but alert. She scanned the pentagram from next to Shane and turned to Goldsworth, saying, “I think I heard something that made me think you were talking about me.”

“Don’t worry about that, little princess,” Goldsworth waved off. The nickname made Sara frown, but she said nothing.

“Do you know when we will start the ritual?” Tinsley asked.

Sara glanced at Dube and Fisher. “Soon, I think? After Ms. Zara and Nate are finished charging the sigils.” She wrung her fingers. “I charged them, but it turns out I’m not strong enough to power them properly.”

“That’s not exactly a problem,” Tinsley assured. “You’re young, you have room to grow. Besides, they’ve been doing cleansings. They know how to charge sigils for an exorcism better than anyone here.”

Sara didn’t seem particularly pleased at that. Goldsworth saw it, stood and ruffled her curly hair with his free hand and got a squawk in response, and grinned. “Eh, cheer up. You’re doing great for someone your age.” He turned to Tinsley. “Were you as good as her, Tins? Your magic feels like it’s really tightly controlled now.”

Tinsley gave a thoughtful hum. “No,” he said. “My spells are mostly sound-based, and I didn’t have much control over it when I was little. I remember making a hole in my childhood home’s wall when I cried, once. Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t charmspeak. I wouldn’t want to charm my way out of everything, and it would’ve been unfair to the person I was speaking to.”

“Really? I would’ve been happy to use it anytime I could,” Goldsworth commented. “It would make my life easier.”

Tinsley gave him a side-eyed glance, looking unamused. “That’s because you have no sense of morals whatsoever.”

Goldsworth gasped dramatically. “Aw, Tins! That’s the nicest thing you’ve said about me!”

Shane glanced uncomfortably to Sara, and she shifted and did the same. The detective and the criminal’s dynamics seemed a bit odd to him, too easy and too close, but he couldn’t really comment, could he? His only frame of reference were cartoons and TV series.

“Say, Tins, are you going to do something with this?” Goldsworth asked, shaking their cuffed hands until the metal rattled. “Wouldn’t this get in the way?”

Tinsley stared at the cuffs for a moment. “It would, actually,” he said at length. He licked his lips and whistled a three-tone tune, and the metal disintegrated. In its place, a red, somewhat translucent thin red ribbon that glowed softly materialized, wrapping their wrists. Tinsley pulled his hand to test the spell, and it stretched indefinitely.

Goldsworth stared at it and clicked his tongue. “I was half hoping I can escape this, but apparently not.”

Tinsley blinked owlishly at Goldsworth. “I worked hard to capture you, Goldsworth. I’m not letting you go. Besides, I put a tracking spell in your soul. I’ll be able to find you quickly anyway.”

“That’s true.”

They settled into silence, watching Dube and Fisher fussing and charging the sigils. When they were done, they waved them over, and Shane, Sara, and Tinsley came closer. Goldsworth stayed in his place, leaning at the wall.

“Behave,” Tinsley said, pointing at Goldsworth. He just grinned in response.

“Alright, now,” Fisher inhaled, looking around at the pentagram. His eyes flicked to Dube. “Where do we stand?”

Dube’s eyes scanned the pentagram, reading each sigil with practiced ease. She looked at Sara, smiled softly, and said, “Here, dear. Stand at this point here.” One by one, she directed each person to stand at each point of the five pointed star. After Sara, she directed Fisher to his appointed place, then Tinsley, and then she took place for herself. Each of the big sigil painted at the point of the star glowed softly whenever someone stood at the point, and soft white glow followed the lines of the star and the circle around it until the whole ensemble lit up in soft, pulsing shine. Dube beckoned at Shane, coaxing him to take his place, and he stared at the pentagram for a moment before he did.

The light stuttered, dimming for a moment, and then suddenly flared up bright enough to light up the whole room. A blast of something pulsed from the pentagram. The air suddenly felt heavier with the spiritual presence of the five at the pentagram, and Shane looked around in alarm.

Dube just smiled at him. “Don’t be scared,” she said, her accent muffling the words for a bit before Shane’s brain processed them enough to understand the meaning. “It’s just your magic powering up the pentagram.”

“I didn’t know I had magic,” Shane said, confusion stark in his voice.

Tinsley hummed, kneeling and pressing his fingertips at the pentagram. “It’s amplification magic,” he said. “You amplify others’ magic and abilities, whether you’re aware of it or not. I’m not surprised you didn’t realize. Most people wouldn’t, unless something noteworthy happens.”

“Regardless, this is going to help us a lot,” Fisher noted. “We don’t know what we’ll face, so any sort of boost is good.” He smiled at Shane. “The pentagram is designed to naturally induce your magic, but putting intent into it would be great. It’ll boost the magic even more.”

Shane looked down, staring at the glowing lines. He licked his lips and nodded.

Mr. Bergara placed Ryan in the middle of the pentagram, stroking his hair softly. The boy’s teeth chattered as the father stood, hand feebly reaching out blindly for something familiar; something safe. It looked like it physically pained Mr. Bergara to leave his son at the pentagram, but he couldn’t stay. He met Dube and Tinsley’s eyes, went to Mrs. Bergara to share a quick press of their foreheads. They both looked at each person in the room in the eyes, nodded, and climbed up the stairs.

 “Is everyone ready?” Dube asked, and even though Shane couldn’t say he was he didn’t voice it. Instead he nodded, like the others. Dube nodded back, gaze hardening, glancing to Fisher. “Then we will start.”

Fisher started the ritual, talking in a language Shane couldn’t recognize, hands outstretched to the center of the pentagram as if willing his powers to gather there. Dube followed, kneeling to the ground and pressing her fingertips to the edges of the pentagram. At first she seemed to be doing nothing, but then Shane saw the golden glow beneath her eyelids and at the very tips of her fingers, competing against the white of the pentagram. The golden glow sparked like little flame-flowers, tiny golden specks that snaked their way around the pentagram until it glittered gold above the soft white. Tinsley added his own magic into the fray, whistling a single tune that was reverberating and piercing at the same time. Sara wasn’t particularly doing anything, but her eyes darted about, checking each symbol drawn to strengthen the pentagram. Every now and then, she focused her sharp eyes at a single sigil, concentrated, and looked away to check on other sigils.

Shane, himself, didn’t feel like he was actively trying to do something, but he could feel the pentagram pulling at him. Like it was nudging at the deepest part of his chest, pulling, encouraging him. Tentatively, he inhaled and tried to probe around for magic he never really was able to sense. When he could finally sense a speck of them, each of the other person in the pentagram shot him a glance, eyes encouraging, so he kept trying.

Barely a minute had passed when Ryan started moaning. Shadows had pooled underneath him, and when he opened his mouth, slithers of inky black darkness waved through his teeth. It made Shane shudder, but the darkness was slowly being sloughed off, ebbing away under the glow of the magic the five showered to banish the dark. When it looked like most of the dark had been banished, the rest drew back into the boy, and his eyes snapped open. They were twin voids of inky black dotted with stars, and Shane had only had the chance to note how disturbing they looked when Ryan suddenly opened his mouth and screamed.

Both he and Sara jumped when they heard the scream, but the adults only braced themselves. Fisher’s spell grew louder, gaining an edge in how it was spoken – almost like Fisher was spitting it out, instead of speaking it like before. Dube’s eyes snapped open, and they were pools of pure molten gold. She bared her teeth, and sparks of glitter gold danced when she ground her teeth. Tinsley’s whistled tune changed, climbing in pitch and gaining an almost stabbing quality to it.

Black stormed out of Ryan’s mouth like a tornado, and it pooled above the boy like some sort of ink blot. Ryan slumped to the floor, senseless to the world.

And then the air changed.

It was like there was some sort of serenity in the air before, but now static electricity ran its course in the air, zapping Shane’s skin and making him shudder. The ink blot pulsed, and an outline of a transparent person came out of Ryan’s body and disappeared into the black. It pulsed again, and stilled.

At first Shane thought it was over, but then Dube snapped into attention, staring at the ink blot in alarm. Silver streaks ran through the pools of gold that were her eyes. “Something’s wrong,” was all she could say before the ink blot pulsed again and suddenly snapped black lightning everywhere.

Sara screamed in surprise and fear, ducking to avoid the lightnings but not leaving her post. Fisher’s spellcasting stuttered, but he soon continued with renewed vigor, though to Shane’s untrained ears it sounded like he was layering another spell on top of the one he was already casting before. Dube flared brilliant gold, dark hair turning fair, sparks of her magic flying in the air. The lightnings didn’t catch any of them.

Tinsley and Shane weren’t as lucky.

Black struck Tinsley in the chest, and his whistled tune was cut abruptly with a gasp. The lightning coiled around Tinsley’s torso and gripped. Shane, taken aback by the display, failed to recognize another bolt of black lightning lashing to him, and it, too, caught him at the chest.  He yelped in pained surprise, feeling it gripping him until it was hard to breathe. Almost immediately, the white glow of the pentagram dimmed.

“No!” Sara yelled, but it sounded faint and far for Shane’s ears.

The ink blot pulsed and grew larger. Through squinted eyes, Shane could see ivory white bones peeking out of the dark, stark against the black that gathered like storm cloud. The skeletal hand gripped the edge of the dark, and when the otherworldly figure climbed out, Shane could only stare in numb horror.

The creature had a skeletal head of some sort of horned animal – Shane’s best guess was a bull. Its skeletal torso was one of human’s, with glistening red muscles forming, decaying, and reforming in a constant cycle around its bones. The arms, likewise, was surrounded by rotting muscles that seemed to be unable to decide between forming or decaying, but the finger bones were pristine, ivory white. Meat seemed to be a permanent fixture on its waist down, with fur covering the rest of the body except for the clopping two-toed hooves. Fiery tail swished behind him – white-blue at the base and orange-red at the tip. When the creature exhaled loudly, stream of smoke escaped its nose.

Through the silence that reigned upon the creature’s coming, Dube’s whisper was as loud as thunder. “Demon,” she breathed.

As if on cue, the demon snapped, looking around with burning red flame in its eye sockets. Its eyes found Tinsley, and it let out a roar. Black tendrils came out of the ink blot, reaching it and grabbing at its horns and tails, pulling in, but one look at Tinsley had the tendrils changing direction. Suddenly they surged to Tinsley, wrapping him up and dragging him in. He grunted, thrashing and flailing to get free, but to no avail.

Shane wanted to run ahead and grip him, but the black lightning coiling around him stopped him from moving. When he tried to move his legs, something stopped him. The pentagram felt like it was gluing itself to his feet, stopping him from moving away from his spot.

Behind, Goldsworth let out a strangled gasp. “Tins,” he breathed, and he shot forward. “Tins!”

Tinsley turned to him, hand outstretched to reach Goldsworth’s own. The red band thinned as Tinsley was sucked into the ink blot, and then he was gone.

The red band snapped.

Goldsworth stared at his wrist as the remnants of red darkened into lifeless brown, then thinned into grey that faded away into dust. He looked lost, searching into the void for any sign of the investigator that had managed to capture him, to no avail.

“Goldsworth,” Dube called, but Goldsworth didn’t respond. “Goldsworth!” she repeated, harsher, and gold sparks went flying. This time the man jolted and stared at her with gaze that seemed just as lost as before.

Dube saw it, and bit her lip. “There’s nothing we can do now,” she said carefully. “When something comes out of a portal, something else must take its place.”

“Then we push that thing back where it came from and drag Tinsley back,” Goldsworth said, and it looked like it surprised him that the words came tumbling out of him. He closed his jaws with a snap, staring at nothing.

Fisher, though, responded to the plan with a grin. “I like that plan,” he said, and began casting a new spell. Dube immediately followed, flaring gold and silver streaks into the air. She glanced at Shane, tightened her jaws, and began flaring brighter. The dim white of the pentagram was soon overtaken by glitters of gold and silver.

Goldsworth looked around, looking a bit lost. He licked his lips, hesitated, and began whistling. It felt almost like Tinsley’s spell, with the added flair of Goldsworth’s own personality in it.

Sara turned to Shane, as if asking what to do. Shane just shook his head. They were children caught in something so much bigger than themselves, and the adults were trying so hard to deal with it without burdening them. They helped, as much as they could, but the years of practice and experience the adults had under their belts made their help felt almost insignificant. Not to mention the black lightning still holding Shane hostage.

The demon, unfortunately, felt the direction of the magic change and roared again, turning in the pentagram so it could send stinky breath to all their faces for good measure. It stared at them with its glowing red eyes, and then, with low voice that echoed in more planes than one, spoke, “I will not let you hinder me. I will stay here and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“You will not,” Dube bit, but the demon didn’t listen. It towered over Ryan’s small form and began glowing ominous red light. The ink blot, still connected to Shane with the black lightning, pressed and folded into itself and was gone when the demon gripped it into his palm. The black lightning now connected Shane into the demon’s hand. He didn’t know what to think about it.

Goldsworth paused in his whistling, muttering words Shane couldn’t quite hear. For some reason, he was convinced that if he had said those words his father would have cuffed him in the head. Soon, he continued whistling with renewed vigor, and Tinsley faded from the spell, replaced by Goldsworth.

The demon simply spared him a glance. It stared at Ryan’s unmoving body, and pulsed ominous red once again, then faded seemingly out of existence. But then Ryan’s eyes opened, and this time they were fiery red instead of inky black. He turned to stare at Shane with empty red eyes, and the black lightning coiling around him sparked with red, and suddenly Shane’s world was on fire.

A thought that wasn’t his slithered in his mind. Something about the young medium being too young and weak to fully host it, but there was someone just as youthful with a rare, interesting magic around. It was a demon with considerable power, inhabiting two earthly bodies at once was well within its capabilities.

Shane’s world exploded in red and black, and his memories cut off.

* * *

 

Ryan didn’t remember much. He remembered the spirit in the tree that practically tackled him off the branch to gain access inside his head. He remembered sluggishly trying to hold off the spirit while suffering from concussion. He remembered black, sparks of gold and silver, and angry red bolts weighing him down until he couldn’t move a muscle, until breathing became a chore that he couldn’t quite manage.

But he was also hosting Ricky, and Ricky was not immune to the release of the spell that held his memories back. When the seal was broken, Ricky was swept in the current of memories, and his own had surfaced.

He remembered desperately running to reach Tinsley, too late by a fraction. He remembered how his heart stuttered when the red band snapped, and what little connection he still had with the detective was gone. He remembered being surprised that he was so attached to the detective, remembered wanting him back from the plane from which the demon emerged, remembered taking Tinsley’s place in the pentagram to bring back the first person to whom he felt genuine connection to, no matter what sort it was.

He remembered, remembered, remembered, and suddenly Ryan wasn’t sure if it was Ricky’s memories or if it was his own.

He remembered staring at two young boys, both outlined with entwined dark red that towered into the silhouette of a horned being and feeling anger spark in his chest. The demon had already taken a person today. It would not take another.

“We can’t force it back into its realm,” the lady that sparked gold and silver said. “The portal’s already gone. We can’t force it open unless we use Ryan or Shane’s connection to the demon to open the portal, but the demon is too powerful for us to attempt that. Not to mention Ryan’s already weakened from the earlier possession, and I’m not sure Shane can handle it.” The silver streaks in her eyes dulled to grey and she pressed her lips together. “I think… our best option is to seal the demon within them, seal their memories, and revisit this when they are stronger.”

“Which will grow strong enough to overpower the seal, though?” the spellcaster asked, hands trembling. He had finally stopped casting the spell after doing so continuously. “We can’t know if the boys will have enough spiritual power to overpower the seal and banish the demon, or if the demon would grow strong enough to overpower _them_.”

“It’s a risk we have to take, unless we want them to both die now,” the lady spat.

There was a soft keening sound, and he turned. The little girl with strong sigil magic looked at them in fear. “Will… will Shane and Ryan die from this?” she asked, voice small.

The gold in the lady’s eyes hardened. “They might, dear,” she said, and he was surprised she didn’t try to shield Sara from the truth. “Right now, the only way out of this that I can see is if we can seal the demon inside them, and the memory of this night. If they grow strong enough, they may be able to overpower the demon within them and the demon will cease.”

“If not?” Sara asked.

The spellcaster’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll come to them and redo this all over again, except that time we will banish the demon for real.”

Sara looked at them, eyes wide and hands trembling. After a moment, her gaze hardened and she gulped, nodding. Despite not actually knowing her well, he felt a surge of pride at her bravery.

Seeing her nod, the lady nodded back, the pools of gold warm with the same pride that he felt. She then began rattling instructions, and soon they set off to work. Like before, they layered spells on top of each other, combining powers and magic to set a seal on the two boys currently holding the demon inside them.

It wasn’t without a fight. The two boys screamed at them, glaring with eyes as red as glistening blood, hands reaching to stop them from speaking. The spellcaster, apparently having taken responsibility to secure the boys, barked a spell to keep them back. The demon within the two boys slunk back, red eyes angry. Soon, however, silver light caged them and forced the red into their bodies, and the boys slumped, unmoving. Gold snaked along the bodies of the four, condensing at their chests just over their hearts. It pooled and heated, curling into a symbol, but before the heat became unbearable it cooled off.

He peeked into his shirt and saw a black sigil branded over his heart, and he knew the other three had the same symbols. The magic was strong, the four of them taken and mixed and spat out into metaphorical pillars that held the seal keeping the demon dormant intact. It was layered with a memory seal to keep the boys unaware of the experience, to spare them from the trauma. There was a layer of silencing spell in it, and he spared a sharp glance at the gold-and-silver lady. She returned the gaze somberly.

The silencing spell was meant for added security, he knew that. If the boys were unaware of the seal, there was less chances of the seal breaking. For the ones bearing the sigils, it was obvious that they had to keep their lips closed, but he knew the lady didn’t know if Sara could keep silent. Even talking about it to her mother could jeopardize it. But then again, each one of the adults could slip.

He knew a sneaky move when he saw it, and he didn’t like it, but he could see why it was needed. He allowed a small nod and returned his attention to the sealing ritual.

When the rush of combined magic receded, the boys dazedly opened their eyes, memories vague and swirling and confusing and would soon be forgotten. Their eyes were no longer the glistening red, but the shades of brown they normally had.

* * *

 

Sara felt the blowback of the magic pushing her back, and jolted in fear when she heard metal clanged as it fell onto her floor. She peeked out, looking around, and saw both Shane and Ryan in a crumpled heap on the floor, red pulsing off of themselves. Soon, it gathered into the pentagram, the place where she had concentrated her magic to bait any spiritual being in.

The seal was broken. The boys were most likely caught in a torrent of memories, but it wouldn’t last long. She had to move before things get awry again.

Ryan was likely still hosting Goldsworth. She didn’t see him exiting the medium’s body, so it was more than likely that he was also caught in the release of the seal. Shane would most likely be exhausted, after being taken over like that. The connection the demon had to the two of them was likely equally strong, but right now it was probably stronger to Shane than it was to Ryan, with the medium currently having a spirit within him. If she wanted to banish the demon for real, she had to somehow use the connection to open a portal to the realm where it came from.

She flipped Shane to his back and bit her lip when she saw how his face was contorted with pain. With trembling hand, she took a marker and drew a sigil upon her palm.

“Please,” she whispered, not really knowing what she wished for. She let her magic pool in the sigil and slammed her hand to Shane’s chest to transfer the sigil over, and his eyes snapped open, mouth gasping in a breath that hitched in his throat. Sara’s magic mingled with Shane’s, and she guided the magic to tap into the demon’s and grabbed it when she found it.

In the pentagram, a portal opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, this was finished today and edited minimally, my finals was crazy and i didn't have time to write, sorry for no update for so long
> 
> anyway happy holidays, this is my belated christmas present, i wanna sleep for a solid week, bye


	9. Chapter 9

When Ryan came to, Sara’s apartment was still a wreck, a portal was opening in a sloppy pentagram, the smell of sulfur stabbed into his nose, Shane was lying on his back with Sara hovering over him, and she had torn clothes and red seeping into its fabric.

His breath hitched, but then he relaxed. Sara was here, Sara was still alive, she was wounded but if she was well enough to still be up she was fine. Her heart was within her. She was fine.

“Sara,” he called, voice weak and raspy. “You’re bleeding.”

Sara’s eyes darted to him for a moment before returning to Shane. “I’m fine. The demon didn’t get to eat my heart. It just nicked me.” She turned to the pentagram briefly before her eyes darted back to Shane. “He won’t wake up.”

“Not yet, maybe,” Ryan muttered, even as worry bloomed in his chest. Remembering that he and Shane both had hosted the same demon and probably had some sort of link out of that, he dug deep within himself and tried to reach Shane. It was hard to find and harder still to reach, but the thin line of connection was there, and he grasped it and dug to find Shane at the end of it. When he reached him, he frowned.

“Have you banished the demon?” Ryan asked Sara.

“I designed the pentagram to automatically draw the demon into it once it’s out in the open,” Sara said, biting her lip. “When the seal broke, it came out, so it should be inside the pentagram now. I just don’t think it’s made itself corporeal.”

“A small part of it is still clinging to Shane,” Ryan said. “It’s probably why he hasn’t woken up.”

“Do you think a banishing spell like I usually use on you will work?” Sara asked. Her voice trembled with nervousness that clawed up to her lips.

Ryan paused to think, but Ricky came up with an answer. “Probably not, since spirits and demons are different,” he said. There was a brief flash of amusement when Ryan flared with surprise, forgetting that they were still sharing a headspace. “But your protective spell might work, if all three of us work together.”

Sara blinked in confusion the same time as Ryan blurted, “How?”

Ricky shifted. “Well the demon possessed you both, and since I’m occupying space right now it can only cling to long legs over there. But if I make space, Ryan can probably draw it in, and if there’s a protection spell on long legs it can’t get back there to slink and hide.”

“Wait, but how will we get the demon out of – “ thoughts, ideas, and impressions too fast for words to catch up on flitted in Ryan’s brain as Ricky’s consciousness blitzed with his plans. “Oooh. Yeah, that’ll probably work.”

“If we can put the protection spell to Ryan and I can force the demon out, the little piece that’s left will be forced out in the open,” Ricky put his plan to words, more to Sara’s benefits than for Ryan’s. “Things will be fine for once. Probably.”

Sara blinked owlishly. “That last _probably_ isn’t putting my mind at ease, but okay.” She took a marker by her legs and uncapped it, drawing a sigil on her palm. “Also, it was really freaky to see you practically talk to yourself like that.” She capped the marker again and took a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s hope the plan works.”

Well, Ryan sure hoped the same, because if it didn’t his body would be fucked. Would his soul be eaten?

There was a disapproving nudge from Ricky, and Ryan put that line of thought away.

Sara pressed her palm to Shane’s chest, and he gasped, eyelids fluttering. Ryan and Ricky both took it as their cues, and Ricky immediately, little by little, separated his consciousness from Ryan’s. It was weird, with him out but not fully, and Ryan able to still feel his tendrils of thoughts clinging onto him. He could almost imagine Ricky outside of him but not fully separated, the two of them standing in a twin pose, a dizzying double vision of flesh and soul.

He refocused himself and dug into the link between him and Shane. The second time around, it was easier to reach. He found the small piece of darkness still clinging desperately to Shane, and gently coaxed it to join him instead. The dark was nearly thoughtless, only a leftover piece of instinct trying to stay around. It was surprisingly easy to tug. When its dark tendrils slipped in and started to twine around Ryan’s being, though, he felt like vomiting.

It was dark, and hot, and he felt like holding onto burning charcoals with his bare hands. It whispered thoughts of anger and fear into his brain, brutally trying to take control, and visions of blood and gore danced in Ryan’s mind. Metal and acid made their marks on his tongue, and he tried to open his mouth to scream, only to find he had minimal control of his body. He was trapped, and the dark that the demon held was nothing like a spirit’s, and panic filled Ryan to the brim – he had no idea what to do, this plan was a mistake, he would be taken over, no, no, no…

Like rubber being pulled and then released, Ricky slammed back into place and forced the demon out. The natural cold of the spirit’s soul eased out the heat of the demon fire. But the difference was too jarring, too quick, and that didn’t ease the panic Ryan was still drowning in. He turned to his side and gagged, trying not to throw up, but it was getting harder to keep down. He was panicking and queasy, and that made Ricky panic and queasy, and that in turn only made Ryan even worse, and too bad they didn’t want to throw up, they were stuck in a feedback loop of panic and nausea.

A palm, clammy but cool, found its way at the back of Ryan’s neck. Magic flared, and Ryan recognized it as Sara’s. Calm began to drown the panic, and the nausea died with it. He took a deep breath and met Sara’s incredibly unamused stare.

“Don’t you dare throw up in my apartment,” she said.

“Your apartment’s already messy,” Ryan blurted without thinking.

“Well don’t add your puke on top of it all!” Sara protested. It caused Ryan to snort in amusement, but Ricky chose instead to give a full-bellied laugh. Sara pouted, and Ryan smiled fondly.

(A part of his mind wondered about that. He never thought of Sara as _adorable_ , of all things. At least not in the way he thought little kids were adorable and needed to be protected.)

(That part of his mind was buried beneath the urgency of his current situation.)

“What about the demon?” Ricky asked when his laugh subsided.

Sara turned to the pentagram. “It’s there. I’m just hoping the pentagram is strong enough. It was a sloppy work.”

Ryan followed her line of sight. In the pentagram, below the opening portal, shadows shifted and bubbled, slowly taking form. He swallowed and pushed himself to a crouch, ready to spring to his feet at a moment’s notice. The leftover feelings of having the demon inside of him still made his skin crawl, but at least he wasn’t about to puke anymore.

As the demon inside the pentagram began to stitch itself into flesh and bone that rotted and formed simultaneously, forming a weird satyr with bull skull for head, Ryan felt something spark. Behind him, he heard Shane stir and woke, and before him, the portal rumbled ominously.

A hand grabbed his, and Ryan gasped in surprise, the feeling mixed and fortified by Ricky’s. Warmth seeped into his skin from the contact, and suddenly everything felt sharper, stronger, clearer by a tenfold. The demon seemed to be shrouded by plumes of black and red clouds, occasionally sparking red and black bolts of electricity. He could see soft, pink-purplish glow clinging to Sara’s skin, and silvery sky blue lined with electric indigo streaks wrapping his. He turned, seeing Shane already sitting, hands grasping Ryan and Sara’s. Mist of yellow-green slipped from his fingers and seeped into their skin, and to Ryan’s surprise the brown of Shane’s eyes was overlapped with green. With a jolt, he realized Ricky’s ability had bled into him and he was seeing their aura. Quick, flitting impression of Ricky’s surprise told him this wasn’t exactly normal for him either, so Shane’s magic must be amplifying his ability so well the colors vividly jumped to his vision.

He opened his mouth to ask if Shane was okay, but Ricky chose that moment to hijack his speech. “Your control over your amplification magic is shit,” he said.

“Give me a break, I only found out I had it like three days ago,” Shane grumbled.

“Only three days ago?” Ricky blinked in surprise. “Well, I take that back. You’re doing great for someone who’s flying blind, long legs.”

Shane stared. His eyes narrowed. “Goldsworth?” he asked.

“In the flesh,” Ricky answered easily, and Ryan soon took over, wrinkling his nose and commenting, “That was a terrible joke.” He ignored the way Ricky laughed inwardly at his reaction, knowing his unamused thoughts was readily available for Ricky to sense anyway.

“What in fuck – “ Shane shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, we’re sharing headspace,” Ryan informed.

“How?” Shane demanded.

“Well,” Ryan took a deep breath, and felt Ricky settling, getting a blitz of a man making himself comfortable in a couch with a warm cup of tea in his hands. “Funny story – “

“We don’t have time for funny stories, save that for later,” Sara interjected. The pink-purple in her skin spiked with a mix of annoyance and wariness. “Something’s happening to the portal.”

Ryan turned back to the portal and realized Sara was right. The inky black portal began sparking red lightning, and the air stirred with magic. Something was coming.

Vine-like tendrils of black, tipped with grey, began slithering out of the portal. A line of red shimmered into existence, wrapping itself in Ryan’s wrist and connecting him to something beyond the portal. His breath hitched, and Ryan found himself unable to look away from the portal.

Something – some _one_ – burst through the black of the portal, inky blackness stubbornly clinging to his limbs and clothes before snapping away. Something flooded Ryan and almost made him keel, the relief too overpowering to even identify properly. His thoughts came in a swarm of _oh thank god, he’s still alive_ and _how is he still alive_ and _I’m gonna kill him for making me worry_. It was disorienting, and it took Ryan longer than he was comfortable with to realize that they weren’t his thoughts; they were Ricky’s.

(He wondered if the memory seal being broken and him and Ricky practically sharing a memory was the reason. The line where Ryan ended and Ricky began had blurred, and blurred further and further, and he could no longer tell which was his thoughts and feelings and which was Ricky’s.)

(He swept his musings under the figurative rug. This was no time to think about that.)

C.C. Tinsley landed on Sara’s floor, hair clumping with sweat and grime, trench coat singed and dirty, shoes practically falling apart. He sported eyebags deep and dark enough to win him a free ticket to a heavy metal concert. Bruises and cuts littered his skin, and he looked like he was running on fumes and was ready to collapse. Despite all this, his stormy eyes were as sharp as Ryan remembered – rather, as sharp as _Ricky_ remembered. Eighteen years had passed, but Tinsley barely looked like he had aged.

He looked at the band of red on his wrist and followed it to Ryan’s. He stared. “Goldsworth?” he asked in uncertainty.

“Hi, Tins,” Ricky greeted back.

The demon growled loudly, and it took their attention away. “You cannot leave so easily,” it said, voice deep and guttural. “If one comes out of the portal, another must take its place.”

Tinsley’s eyes narrowed. “I’m aware,” he responded. He licked his lips and began whistling, and vines of grey tinted with sea green manifested around him, slowly slithering to the demon.

“You cannot harm me,” the demon growled. It looked down at the pentagram, and Ryan could see its grin even when it had to mouth to indicate the expression. “Don’t think I don’t know this was drawn hastily. I can feel the weakness. It’s calling to me.”

Sara stiffened. Her face paled.

The red orbs within the demon’s black eye sockets glinted. It purred, “I found you.”

“No,” Sara whispered. She snatched a marker and paper, furiously scribbling a sigil in a desperate attempt to mend the pentagram, but it was too late. The demon pressed a flaming hand to the weak sigil and burned it off, leaving charred wood behind. It slipped through the broken pentagram easily, and even with the permanent mockery of a smile its skull sported Ryan could see it grinning in satisfaction.

Ricky moved to work before he did. “Little princess, go mend the pentagram,” he instructed. “Get long legs to help you. He’ll be able to fortify the pentagram.” He turned to Tinsley and grinned. “Now, I know you were trying to throw me to jail. But work with me for now, okay?”

Tinsley huffed. “It’s not like there’s any other option if we want to live.” He circled the demon carefully. Ricky followed, and Ryan let him take control of his body. He didn’t know what to do, and clearly Ricky had a better idea. Shane squeezed his hand one more time before releasing, and the shifting colors that he saw grew muted – still there, but a lot less prominent, nearly transparent.

The demon roared in pain when a lance of grey light pierced its arm, courtesy of Tinsley’s sudden spell. It immediately turned to Tinsley, and Ryan realized they were in for a game of cat and mouse.

“Where’s your body, by the way?” Tinsley asked, almost conversational. The casual tone was betrayed only by the quick whistles he would sound every now and then.

“Oh, you know,” Ricky shrugged. “Down in some hole. Buried without grace. The usual for a corpse.”

Tinsley froze, and nearly got his head lobbed off by a swipe from the demon. “You’re dead?” he asked, voice small.

“Yes?” Ricky answered. He grimaced. “It’s a surprise, I guess. I mean, yeah, I’m dead, and I’m currently with this guy here.”

“Did you steal his body?” Tinsley asked, eyes shifting suspiciously.

“I lent him control by my own volition,” Ryan interjected. “Things were… messy.”

Tinsley opened his mouth to speak, but the demon let out a rumbling sound. With a frown, he let out a long whistle, low and soft at first and built up in pitch and volume. Grey vines rose from the floor and wrapped it from the ankle up. He turned to Ryan. “What exactly happened?” he asked. “Who’s this guy hosting you? I know things happen, and I don’t know how long I was stuck in there, but… did the ritual succeed?”

Ricky stared. “Well… huh. Hm. Long story short, we were forced to seal the demon instead of banishing it because it was too strong and you got taken. But, well, eighteen years has passed and things have changed, the kids are strong enough to try to banish the demon – “

“Wait, slow down,” Tinsley said, voice a strangled gasp and a yell at the same time. “What do you mean it’s been eighteen years? I didn’t have any means to tell time in there, but it’s been two years at most.”

Ricky blinked at him slowly. “It’s been eighteen years, Tins,” he said, voice soft. “This guy who’s sharing body with me? He’s Ryan, the kid who was possessed and needed the ritual. That lanky guy over there is the kid with amplification magic, and the girl is that one kid with really strong drawn magic.” He tilted his head. “Can’t you tell? I know you can sense their magic.”

Tinsley stared at him, suddenly looking lost. “Eighteen years,” he said softly, and Ryan felt his heart break a little. Or maybe that was Ricky. He couldn’t tell.

A sudden spark of magic caught their attention, and the demon breathed a stream of steam. It growled as it turned to the pentagram, where Sara and Shane crouched. Even afar Ryan could see the pentagram was fixed, and strengthened by Shane’s magic. They looked up at the demon, defiance in their eyes.

The vines holding the demon in place snapped as black and red lightning struck out of its hand, blindly striking to all direction. The demon roared in anger. Tinsley took a deep break and began whistling, but it was cut short as a wave of power bowled him over. The demon rose and marched to Sara.

“Stand back!” Shane warned, intentionally putting himself between the demon and Sara. His hand was outstretched, and a protection sigil glowed brightly. It was Sara’s, but Shane’s previously dormant magic amplified the effect exponentially. The protective warmth pulsed, sending waves to keep the demon back.

It didn’t work. The demon easily swiped Shane away, and he was flung, back hitting the couch painfully. The demon turned to Sara, hand raised.

Sara drew a sharp line on the floor with her marker and threw her hand up. Glowing wall rose from the line, providing a barricade between her and the demon. The demon swiped again, and the wall shattered. It swiped at Sara, too fast for her to react.

There was a smell of singed fabric, and then fire soared from Sara’s back. A fire bird spun in the air and landed in font of her, hunching protectively and screeching. Its flaming feathers spat sparks into the air, its talons scorching black marks into Sara’s wooden floor. The demon pulled its hand back in surprise when the phoenix burned its hand.

“Demons are made of fire,” Tinsley muttered. “How?”

Sara barked out a laughter. “My gamble worked.” She crouched, breath labored. “Shane, can you give me a boost?”

“I can try but I still don’t know how this works,” Shane answered, voice strangled. The air around him stirred with his magic. Sara’s breath grew quieter, no longer the heavy panting, but rather a calm inhale. The phoenix’s flames grew brighter, and the phoenix screeched again.

“That works just fine,” Sara said, voice nearly a purr.

“I don’t know how long I can keep this up!” Shane added.

Ryan patted Tinsley’s shoulder to get his attention, pointing ahead to tell him to move. “Come on. Sara got a tattoo of that phoenix maybe two years ago. It’s imbued with a spell that’ll bring it to life if Sara’s life is in danger. The bad news is that it uses up her energy, and once spent she’ll probably pass out or something. We need to move fast.”

“That doesn’t explain why the demon’s burned,” Tinsley protested even as he followed Ryan’s lead.

“Ask Sara later, I’m not a mage,” Ryan shot back.

Sara lifted her hand, pointing up, and the phoenix soared. It flew and charged at the demon, guided by Sara’s orchestrating hand. The phoenix screeched once more, flame-flowers sparking to the air and creating constellations that appeared and disappeared in a blink of an eye, talons scratching and beak pecking. The demon fought back, dark fire leaping and black lightning zapping, but the phoenix kept at it. Sara gritted her teeth and kept at it, trying to get the demon to enter the pentagram once more, while Shane stayed at his place, eyes closed and pinched while trying to use his magic he barely could control to keep Sara’s magic boosted.

“Do something,” Tinsley nudged Ryan. He licked his lips and took a deep breath to begin whistling.

Ryan would just be stuck muttering an _uhhh_ , but Ricky had no qualms about asking, “Do what?”

Tinsley stopped, the whistle he had begun blowing cut short. “Something?” he said, brow lifting. “Anything to help stop the demon.”

“Um, no?” Ricky mirrored Tinsley’s expression and lifted a brow. “I can only do soul stuff. This guy right here is a medium. What do you think we can do? We’re literally useless in this situation, Tins.”

Tinsley levelled them an unimpressed glare. “You should have gotten a more useful spirit to help you, Bergara,” he said, and he stared at the demon for a moment before whistling loudly.

Ricky pouted. “Rude,” he mumbled, even though amusement surged through him. He poked Ryan all the same, asking if there was really nothing they could do through a series of impressions and pieces of memories. Regretfully, Ryan confirmed.

Well, there were still other things they could do. Ricky flooded Ryan’s body with his magic, and once more colors blared in Ryan’s vision. He let Ricky look around, checking each person in the room. The phoenix was the brightest being in the room, as it was made of pure magic. Sara’s pink-purple glow had dimmed considerably, siphoned away to the phoenix. The mist of yellow-green Shane had was flaring wildly, tangling around to the other colors. Mainly to Sara, but also to others, including the demon. Tinsley’s grey-tinted-with-green clung to his skin desperately, tightly controlled.

Ryan wasn’t an expert at aura, but he didn’t like how dim Sara’s was getting. He didn’t like how Shane was rapidly growing dimmer too, either. It took a moment to realize that the thoughts were initially Ricky’s, but he ire was theirs both. They both racked their brains, trying to find a solution. The demon would need to be dragged back as soon as possible if they wanted things to be okay. The question was how.

The demon pounded the floor with a roar, stopping their lines of thought. Its burning red eyes casted about the room, meeting each person’s gaze with undiluted contempt. “Enough of this farce,” it breathed, licks of flames escaping its mouth. “Your game has gone redundant. I will eat all of your hearts to gain your magic and I _will_ be free.” It sniffed the air. “I can feel there is a place where the magically gifted are gathered. Soon I will consume them all and I will rise.”

Ryan felt a chill that had nothing to do with ghosts run down his spine. The closest place he could think of where mages and spiritually sensitive people gathered was his workplace.

“No you won’t,” Shane hissed, voice strangled.

The demon turned to him sharply. “And what will you do to stop me, human?” it asked. “A human like you, who can barely control his own magic? Do you not know your magic has been feeding me since you’ve flared it like a lamp?”

Shane recoiled at the demon’s words as if they physically slapped him. He stared into the demon’s flaming eyes with dawning horror.

“You cannot do anything, human,” the demon hissed into the room.

The phoenix swooped in, talons out to scratch the demon’s eyes out – or, at least, scratch the eyeholes in the skull. The demon grunted in surprise, stepping back.

“He’s already doing plenty,” Sara said, voice dangerously low. She stood and walked over to Shane, kneeling next to him and grasping his hand. “He’s feeding his magic into me. It’s mine, demon.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare steal my fill.”

Tinsley patted Ryan’s shoulder urgently. “Come with me. Be sneaky.”

“Do you need me to walk on my tippy toes?” Ricky teased even as he did as Tinsley asked.

“If you must,” Tinsley answered, completely missing the sarcasm.

They crouched by the pentagram, ignoring the demon’s indignant roars and the smell of scorch in the air. Ryan kept a lookout on the situation while Tinsley stared at the pentagram, then at the portal.

“Do you need help with anything?” Ryan asked.

“For now, just keep a lookout.” Tinsley didn’t even look at him. Ricky flared with fond annoyance, but said nothing.

Ryan looked around, surveying the situation. Shane and Sara still had their hands locked while Sara had the phoenix attack the demon, and the demon tried to keep the phoenix out of the way, burned every time. He didn’t like what he was seeing. Shane’s face was paling, dark circles deepening under his eyes. He kept drooping, only to snap back up at the last moment.

Sara wasn’t any better. She was even paler than Shane, teeth clenched so hard Ryan could almost hear them grind. A hint of red peeked at her nostrils. Ryan knew it was only a matter of time before the blood started flowing.

_What can we do?_ he felt Ricky ask. _Do you know any spell?_

He did, but only protective ones. Some of the stronger ones required sigils Sara usually provided. Others were small spells he’d learned here and there, but he was never all that good with spells. Active magic wasn’t something that came naturally to him.

Ricky’s thought rose to soothe the worry. He knew other protective spells, they could add the spells together to come up with a decent amount of protective spells.

_Nothing we can do about possibly helping them to fight the demon,_ Ryan concluded. Ricky agreed grimly.

Sara slashed her hand frantically, catching their attention. Her overall movements to guide the phoenix was getting frantic, and it was easy to see why. The phoenix’s fire was dim, almost out completely. Blood flowed freely down Sara’s nose, dripping to her chest and staining her ruined shirt. Shane was by her side, clearly fighting to keep his eyes open, but it wasn’t a fight he would be winning anytime soon.

The demon caught the phoenix by its talon and slammed it to the floor. It let out a last screech, mixed with Sara’s harrowed _no_ , and dissipated into sparks and smoke. As it disappeared, Sara collapsed, and the only reason why she didn’t fall to the floor was because Shane was for some reason alert enough to see that she was about to fall and managed to pull her so that she thumped to his chest instead of the hard floor. The blood streaming from her nose immediately stained Shane’s white shirt, and suddenly he seemed even more weak and frail, the toll of using so much magic he didn’t know he had too much for him. He slumped as he pillowed Sara’s fall, and Ryan knew instinctually that he was spent, just as Sara was.

“So much for doing something,” the demon mocked. It reached to them, white skeletal hand glowing with red and black streaks. Shane stiffened and enveloped Sara in a protective hug, but Ryan knew it wouldn’t be enough.

A sudden spell rose to the forefront of his mind, and Ryan recited it before he realized what he was doing. He realized a split second later that Ricky had pushed him to recite the spell. He reached out with both hands to Shane and Sara, and blue-white light flashed, creating a softly glowing, translucent shield around them. The demon’s hand hit the shield, and it rippled.

He demon turned slowly to him, and Ryan froze, suddenly feeling cold. The demon’s glowing eyes seemed even redder than before. He didn’t like this. Not one bit.

_I think we’re screwed,_ Ricky surmised, sounding entirely too calm in Ryan’s head even though he could feel Ricky’s cold horror reinforcing Ryan’s own.

_Do you know what we can do?_ he asked anyway.

_Aside from running away screaming? No._ Ricky paused when Ryan’s skeptical confusion rippled through, and he flared with annoyance. _Of course I’m scared of the demon. I’m a criminal, not an idiot. It can gobble me up in one gulp and I still want my afterlife._

“You’re shielding them,” the demon observed. There was a rumble of anger, which was expected, but there was also something close to… surprise?

Ryan blinked, brows knitted. “Well, yeah,” he said, somewhat indignantly. “What, you think I’ll just let you eat my friends’ souls?”

He was promptly answered by the demon hissing, apparently pissed that Ryan had stopped it from getting its meal. Fire flared around it, deep red that was nearly black. The effect was ruined by the rush of delight as Ricky laughed loud enough to drown all sounds in the apartment in Ryan’s head. It took a moment for Ryan to realize that the feeling was Ricky’s and another to realize what he actually said. He was torn between preening in Ricky’s amusement or facepalming himself.

“Your attempt is futile,” the demon snarled. “Sooner or later all of you will be eaten.” It shifted to face Ryan. “If you want it so, you can be the first meal.”

Ricky pulled Ryan back, shifting his feet so he scooted backwards a bit. Another spell rose to the forefront of Ryan’s mind, but he could feel Ricky holding him back from reciting it, felt the _not yet, not yet_ floating about in his head. Ryan gulped and gave an imperceptible nod.

There was a shift in the air, and suddenly it was heavier, hotter, and it was almost hard to breathe. Ryan found himself wheezing to take a breath, and the spell Ricky taught dissipated from his mind. Behind the shield he had casted, Shane and Sara both stared at his general direction with dawning horror, and Ryan instantly knew they felt the same thing as he did. Even the demon stopped moving.

Ricky turned around to look at Tinsley. When he inhaled sharply, it was as much him as it was Ryan.

“Tins,” he called, voice strangled. “What are you doing?”

Tinsley blinked and stared straight into their shared eyes. His stormy eyes glinted red, irises glowing with darkness. His hair stirred in the nonexistent wind, and his grey tinted with sea green flared around him in vines tipped with ominous red. Above him, the portal buzzed with responsive magic, vine-like black tendrils snaking away to reach to Tinsley’s own, intertwining together. When the vines twined enough that Ryan could no longer see where Tinsley’s ended and where the portal’s began, they flared red and black, and Tinsley’s grey and green disappeared, bleached out by the portal’s light into the same red and black. Shadows wrapped around him, casting him in darkness, and it twisted and shifted around. It almost looked like the shadows had morphed a tail and a pair of horns for him.

From the darkness of the shadow shrouding him, Tinsley’s gaze sharpened and the red flared ever so slightly. His voice vibrated with something otherworldly when he answered, “Something that needs to be done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on one hand i love writing ricky cause he's such a fun character to write. on the other hand i hate writing ricky because he keeps going to directions i didn't want him to go. stop going off-script, ricky. you're making it harder on me to write this story.
> 
> also, tinsley is fun to write! he's a little less chipper than i first imagined he'd be, but then again he lost 18 years in some shadow realm, so. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	10. Chapter 10

Here’s the thing. Shane was _so fucking tired_.

Having a demon inside of you? Apparently that takes a lot of energy. Having it forcibly pulled out of you? That takes _even more energy_ , mainly from you! So that was already a super fun combination to begin with. Adding having to squeeze ever bit of magic that you can barely control made the whole situation even more complicated, and frankly simply staying awake was pretty much a herculean task already at this point.

Having to deal with said demon trying to eat him, his friend, his girlfriend, and basically all of his coworkers on top of all that? Shane doubted even Hercules could do this stuff.

Having to deal with a detective that just came out of a portal to some sort of hell dimension trying to interact with it in a way that somehow strengthened the portal’s pull on top of the shit ton of stuff he already had to deal with? Now that was just plain excessive. If Shane could opt out of all this shit, he would.

Sadly, real life didn’t work the way Shane wished it would, so he was stuck with a demon that was hungry for power and souls, a detective who strengthened the portal leading to the demon’s home dimension, and the portal itself whirring loudly as if trying to grab all the people present to bring to the hell dimension. Never mind his fatigue. He’d just have to deal with it later. He’d sleep for, like, three months. That would be super nice.

(It said a lot about his state, he thought, that a coma sounded _heavenly_ right then.)

The dark shadows wrapping around Tinsley shifted, and as the vines of inky black began slithering out of the portal and inched out to the demon, the shadows reached outwards and snapped out. All of a sudden it looked like Tinsley was wearing demonic wings made of the shifting dark. Combined with the red that had overtaken his grey eyes, the effect was positively ominous.

Ryan – or maybe that was Goldsworth, Shane didn’t even know anymore – lunged to Tinsley to stop him, but the shadows around the detective wrapped around him and stopped him from moving. “Tins, what the hell?!” Goldsworth – it was for sure him, Ryan wouldn’t call Tinsley a nickname so casually – yelled in outrage. “We’re dealing with a demon here! What are you doing?”

“Stand down, Goldsworth!” Tinsley snapped. “Do you honestly believe I’d do something to harm anyone here?”

“I wouldn’t know. You were stuck in the shadow realm for years!”

Even far away, Shane could see the red in Tinsley’s eyes give way to the grey, even just a little. “Goldsworth,” he said, softly, almost too soft to be heard. “Trust me on this.”

Goldsworth paused, body rigid and eyes wide, a perfect picture of a deer in the headlight. Tied up and confronted like this, he suddenly seemed a lot more _human_ than Shane expected. The fact that he was inside of Ryan and wore his face certainly didn’t help matters.

Then he jerked, like a puppet being jostled. When he spoke again, his voice was a lot quieter, and Shane almost automatically recognized him as Ryan. “Ricky believes you,” he said, “but I can’t. All I see is a man who, for some reason, looks like a demon and wants to strengthen the portal. I can’t trust you.”

Tinsley hummed quietly. “I had hoped you’d see things my way,” he said. “I’d apparently hoped wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked. He never got an answer, as instead of answering Tinsley gave a sharp whistle. The vines that held him pulled at Ryan, pulling his hands together and binding them behind his back. Ryan yelped in surprise and fell, lying prone on the floor.

“The least you can do is stay out of my way,” Tinsley said, and his voice was cold, his eyes were cold, and Shane felt chill climbing up his spine.

“Tins, you son of a fish!” Goldsworth cursed, immediately followed by, “That’s _my_ cuss word! Get your own!”

Shane’s hand found Sara’s and he leaned in, whispering, “Can you do anything to stop him?”

Sara shifted as she tried to sit properly. Her hand trembled as she lifted it up, trying to draw a sigil in the air – something she could do in a pinch, though the effect would be less efficient from a sigil drawn on solid surface. Her hand dropped with a sigh. “No,” she answered dully. “I’m spent. Can you?”

Shane paused, then sighed. “No.”

Sara gazed to the demon, who had stopped advancing when it saw the black vines spilling out of the portal. “Maybe we can do something, though,” she mused. “Small spells, just to distract it. It probably won’t work, but… we can try.”

“We should try,” Shane agreed. He squeezed Sara’s hand and willed his magic to flow into her, strengthening her. It was no more than a trickle compared to the rushing river it was before, and he could feel himself being drained as he fed Sara’s magic with his, but he could manage.

They turned to the demon, feeling connected in a way they had never before, feeling strands of each other’s magic deep in their bones and wishing themselves to be stronger, to last longer, to last _long enough_. Shane felt raw, rubbed clean until he bled from the inside out, and knew Sara felt the same. He felt Sara pull at him, trying to gather enough magic to power a spell.

The demon shifted and slashed the air, black lightning gathering at its hands. It clashed with the black vines Tinsley animated with his soft whistling. It sounded like the wind running through dead woods and leaves in a dark winter night. Shivers climbed Shane’s spine.

“What exactly is Tinsley doing?” Sara whispered, confused and frustrated.

“I don’t know,” Shane replied, “but he’s keeping the demon back. Lesser of two evils, Sara.”

“Don’t you preach to me about the lesser of two evils,” Sara grumbled tiredly. She tapped into their combined magic and drew a sigil for fire in the air, sending the magic to the demon. It manifested as no more than a soft pop under its feet, not much more dangerous than a kitten playfully nipping at someone’s heel. But they were too low on magic, too tired. Shane felt the spell scrubbing him raw of what magic he still had and it was all he could do not to cry out.

Nevertheless, the spell did its work. It distracted the demon enough to whirl around to them and forgetting the very real threat Tinsley posed in front of it. As the demon hurled black lightning to the couple that blew Sara’s couch back and singed Shane’s hair, Tinsley whistled sharply and black vines snapped around the demon’s wrists and ankles. It fell, and the reverberation was enough to shake Shane to his core.

Seeing the demon bound on the floor, Tinsley’s gaze sharpened. The shadows around him curled into him and darkened before it disappeared. He licked his lips and started to whistle a song, a haunting tune. He tapped his finger to his thigh to keep the beat. Black tendrils like vines slithered out of the portal to twine around the demon.

Tinsley paused the whistling to regard the demon coolly. “You are a fool,” he began, “if you think I didn’t learn how to interact with your realm. I spent two years in there. Do you honestly believe I spent it just sitting around doing nothing?”

The demon looked around, panic burning in its red eyes, and turned to Tinsley and roared. Black lightning shot out to twine around him, but Tinsley dispelled it with a sharp slash of his hand and a shrill tune. It sizzled into nothingness. He resumed whistling the haunting tune, eyes borning into the demon’s with quiet challenge.

“You are my replacement,” the demon growled. “My realm does not care who is in there as long as the soul count stays the same. You are to replace me!”

Tinsley stopped whistling, and his eyes went a shade darker. Suddenly, he looked like he was holding the weight of the world. “The human mind isn’t supposed to survive the demonic realm. Even now, I can’t recall everything.” His gaze sharpened again. “But I remember being able to communicate with the realm. I’ve spoke with them.” He stepped forward, fingers snapping in a pattern, and another black vine snapped out to twine itself around the demon’s neck. “Your vacation is over, demon. Time to go home.”

For a split second, silence descended upon the room. Then the vines shot to the demon in a rush and wrapped around it, dragging it back into its own realm.

“No! I’m not coming back!” the demon practically screamed itself hoarse. “I will give you anything, Tinsley. If you would let me stay here until you die I will give you anything you want. Money? Power? Fame?”

Tinsley’s gaze lost focus for a moment. “I want the eighteen years I lost back,” he murmured, almost too soft to hear. “But it’s not like a demon of low caliber like you can grant that wish. Go back to hell.”

The demon roared in response as the vines dragged it closer and closer to the portal. It planted its bony fingers into the floor and just dragged deep lines into the wooden floorboards for all its worth, and it just seemed more pissed when Sara let out a dismayed but indignant “ _My floor!_ ”

With a growl, the demon threw out a hand. Black lightning crackled and spread, rushing to Sara and Shane. Almost automatically, Shane pulled Sara behind him to protect her while she began drawing a shielding sigil, but he knew it would be too late – and that the shield would shatter the moment the black lightning hit it.

Somewhere near the portal, Ryan let out a sound that was smack dab between a war cry and a squeak. Shane chanced a look at him and saw that he was trying to dash to them with the vines still tying him, but then the vines disintegrated into shadows that dissipated into nothingness as blue-white light shot out from him and ran into the back lightning. It coiled around the blue-white light as the light morphed into the shape of a man.

Tinsley jerked. “Goldsworth.”

Goldsworth squirmed in the hold of the black lightning, frowning in discomfort. “Hmm. This is less nice than I thought it would be,” he said mildly, as if he was trying out a couch at some furniture store.

“What the fuck,” Sara blurted out. Shane was inclined to agree.

 “Well, I can’t let any of you get snagged with this,” Goldsworth answered. He still sounded way too casual for the situation. “At least I’m dead. I can’t get any deader.”

That, for some reason, made Tinsley tense. His face contorted into something approaching fury – which was surprising, as he seemed almost perpetually calm and collected before. “Don’t you joke around, Goldsworth,” he spat. “You killed people before, and now that a demon’s trying to drag someone into its realm you decide to have a little heroic sacrifice?”

“What, it’s not like I’m wrong,” Goldsworth said with a frown. “I really can’t get any deader.” He stopped talking when the black lightning dragged him back some more. He turned in disdain. The demon kept dragging him as it was dragged inside the portal. It was already halfway inside the portal, upper half of its bony body dangling out. “You’re really dead set on dragging one of us in, huh? What, no more deals to bring you out of that?”

The demon snarled. Apparently, it was no longer interested in negotiating.

“It’s a good thing you’re not offering any more deals, though. You’d be disappointed.” Goldsworth’s grin was positively smug.

A confused sound climbed its way out of Shane’s mouth before he could stop it. He glanced to Ryan, who was free of any bindings by now. He was hunched in his spot, breathing heavily as he stared at Goldsworth with something that Shane recognized as wary alertness in his eyes. Did Ryan know what Goldsworth was planning?

“And why would I be?” the demon demanded to Goldsworth. “I’m bringing you into my realm. Nothing will bring me more satisfaction.” It pulled harshly, and Goldsworth was tugged closer.

Goldsworth laughed instead and zoomed to the demon’s face. His grin was full of satisfaction. “Do you remember what you offered me earlier when you were still inside long legs over there? You told me you can do anything to grant what I wish for.” His grin stretched wider. “I don’t need your puny wish-granting power, demon. All I want is to bring Tins back to this world.”

A strangled voice came out of Tinsley’s throat. Apparently, this was news to him.

“He’s back now,” Goldsworth continued, choosing to ignore Tinsley. “There’s nothing else to anchor me to this world.” He leaned back a little, smugly staring down at the demon through his nose. “Do you know what spirits with unfinished business do when their business is taken care of?”

The demon showed no sign of something even approaching a _yes_ , but somehow Shane got the impression that it would stare at Goldsworth, breath hitched and eyes widened, if it could. The fire and lightning around it seemed to still for a moment.

“We pass on,” Goldsworth answered his own question with a sort of giddy, almost childish, triumphant smile. His body, already translucent to begin with, seemed to dissolve into mist that faded away with nonexistent wid. “Bye, demon. Don’t come back.”

By this time, the demon was already dragged to its chin. With a roar, black lightning struck out again, but it caught no one else.

Goldsworth turned to Tinsley. Tinsley just stared, eyes filled with things Shane didn’t recognize. Silence hung between them, thick like honey, nearly impossible to cut through. It felt tense. It felt suffocating.

Goldsworth broke the tension with a soft smile. He was nearly all gone when he said, “Farewell, Tinsley.”

“Until we meet again,” Tinsley answered softly. It startled a laugh out of Goldsworth, just in time before he faded into nothingness.

The demon was dragged in fully. The portal shrunk into about the size of a grape, and for the briefest moment, the air stood still. Then the portal imploded into itself and sent a gust out, pressing Shane’s back against the couch behind him. It shifted back in the blast. Shane closed his eyes shut to avoid getting dust in his eyes, feeling grateful that he wasn’t caught in all that.

When he opened his eyes, he realized the others weren’t as lucky.

Sara was better off, as she was already sitting when the portal blasted. The gust pushed her back a few feet, but she was otherwise unharmed. Tinsley wasn’t as lucky as he was standing, and the blast knocked him off his feet; he was currently curling on the floor, fingertips reddish as he had apparently tried to stop his trajectory by clawing the floor. Fortunately, the floor was unharmed. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for his fingers.

Ryan, though. He was about underneath the portal, and the blast was strong enough to blow him off the ground. Judging from how he was curling into himself with the wall at his back, Shane couldn’t help but think that he hit the wall painfully.

Carefully, Shane tried to stand, but he couldn’t. His knees gave out beneath his weight, so he gave up trying to walk and instead dragged himself across the floor to where Ryan was. Only when he was close enough to him that he could hear him keening softly in pain.

“Ryan,” he called, voice low and hoarse. He reached out and grabbed Ryan’s shoulder. “Ry.”

Ryan groaned and turned his head to meet his gaze. “Ow,” was all he said.

Shane couldn’t help but laugh at that. He collapsed by Ryan’s side, suddenly feeling sore all over. He felt like a dirty rag that had just been wrung dry. That was probably magical exhaustion talking. “What a day,” Shane muttered.

“What a decade,” Ryan muttered back. His voice was hoarse and his breathing was shallow. He groaned.

There was a pounding boom at the door, and it blew off its hinges. From his spot, Shane could hear Sara moaning, “ _My fucking door,_ ” and he couldn’t help but wince. The whole apartment was in shambles. Renovating things would take a lot of time and money.

From the sound of it, Shane could tell a hoard of people had just barged in. At the front of it all was Morgan, holding a gun. They looked around the apartment.

“Hi, Jones-Zhang,” Ryan wheezed. “You’re pretty late to the party. The demon’s already gone home.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say _demon_?” Morgan repeated incredulously.

“Why are you so late anyway? I gave you that call, like, fifteen minutes ago? More?”

“We got here pretty early but due to magical interference we couldn’t get the door to open even with some mages helping us,” Morgan answered quickly. “But back up a little. What do you mean, demon? What’s going on here?”

Shane held up a finger. “Actually, I’d also like to know what happened. I kind of don’t know what happened at the start.”

“And who’s this?” Morgan asked again, gesturing to Tinsley.

Tinsley waved awkwardly. “Ah, hello. My name is C.C. Tinsley, I’m a private paranormal investigator.”

Morgan’s voice climbed in pitch. “Why is the missing P.I with you people?!”

“Wait, I’m listed as a missing person?”

“Bergara, _what in the world happened_?” Morgan demanded. They sounded both frustrated and pretty close to hysterical. The fact that Sara curled into herself and began laughing uncontrollably probably didn’t help with anything.

“You know, we’re all for giving our statements,” Ryan wheezed, apparently having difficulty breathing. “But maybe we can do it in the hospital. Things were messy and I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong with my ribs.”

* * *

 

It thankfully wasn’t too long since the incident that the hospital released them with instructions to rest up and take elixirs to replenish their magic to function properly, since they pretty much had wrung themselves dry during the confrontation with the demon. Not one of the four was capable of magic at the moment, and the medical mage attending to them estimated it would take maybe three weeks for them to replenish enough magic of their own to cast spells. They were sent home unceremoniously to rest up for a week, and were told not to strain themselves for another week, and Ryan was given strict instruction to not do any strenuous activity for six weeks to let his cracked ribs heal.

Tinsley stopped midstride when they neared the streets, and they turned to look at him. Sara found the openly lost expression he wore jarring compared to the fierce mask he wore during the confrontation with the demon.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked curiously.

“I haven’t paid rent in eighteen years,” Tinsley said, voice small. “I’m homeless.”

Ryan and Shane exchanged quick glances at each other, then Ryan offered gently, “Maybe stay with us for the time being, until you can find better options?”

Tinsley accepted. But then again, he didn’t really have any choice in the matter.

Then it was Sara’s turn to stop midstride and she bemoaned her ruined apartment in mortification, remembering that she couldn’t sleep at a place like that and that renovating would be such a _bitch_. At that point, Shane extended the invitation to her, and in the end the four of them ended up pooling together in an Uber and got themselves back in Ryan’s apartment.

Ryan took charge of showing Tinsley around in the apartment, showing the bathroom, kitchen, and such, and then the four discussed about the sleeping arrangement. When it was settled, silence dwelled.

“What now?” Sara spoke up.

“We’ll have to figure out what will happen after this, because it’s not like I can’t live here forever,” Tinsley sighed.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ryan blurted, and he seemed just as surprised of it as any of them.

Tinsley just blinked. “I’ll still have to find a job again.” He rubbed his forehead, clearly stressed. “I’ll have to check my old private agency. Maybe there’s a way to restore it. Do any of you know a good place to work, if that doesn’t work out?”

“We all work in the same agency, so I think you should be able to apply there,” Shane said. “I can’t say it’s the best, but I’m sure you’ll find a place there.”

“I’m sure he will. We don’t have a lot of musical mages in the agency,” Ryan pointed out. Sara glanced at him for a moment, surprised, but then remembered the way Tinsley called his magic forth. Considering that the only musical mage in the agency (as far as she knew) was Devin, who sang pop songs as her magic spells, she was pretty sure Tinsley would join their ranks soon.

“Honestly, considering you’ve been gone for eighteen years you probably have a lot to think about,” Ryan continued, staring straight at Tinsley. “What about your status? Shouldn’t you be considered dead for eleven years?”

Tinsley paused, screwed his eyes shut, and groaned loudly as he dug his palms into his eyes.

“Technically, eight, since magical shenanigans means the law considers you dead after ten years instead of seven for nonmagic cases,” Shane pointed out.

“Yeah, because that’s so much better,” Sara rolled her eyes.

“I’m just wondering why it was so easy dealing with the papers in the hospital when you should be considered dead, honestly,” Shane mused. Ryan sent him a quick glare and Sara slapped him with the back of her hand.

“I think Detective Jones-Zhang pulled some strings. I don’t know.” Tinsley shook his head and let his hands drop to his sides.

Sara stared at him, thinking that he really didn’t deserve the headache. He was just trying to help people; no one knew he would end up in some shadow realm. She sighed. “Look, we got people in the agency who can help you with it. I think your best bet is to join the agency and let the legal team deal with the whole living/dead status and everything that comes with it.”

Tinsley hummed unhappily. “I prefer working alone, but I’ll think about it.”

Sara ignored the way Ryan shot her an appreciative and fond look (he kept throwing one to her, what was his deal?) and stood up. “Anyway, it’s late. Should we get dinner?”

“Yeah, let’s order takeouts,” Shane agreed. “I really don’t think any of us has any juice left in us to cook even a single sunny-side-up.”

“I think I can do popcorn though,” Ryan mused. “Should we do a movie night tonight? Since we have to rest anyway, might as well relax and enjoy ourselves.”

“I can’t see why not,” Tinsley agreed. “I should catch up anyway. Is there any good movie you recommend?”

“ _So. Many._ ” Shane shifted in his seat and turned to Tinsley, eyes gleaming. “For starters, there are some new Star Wars movies…”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d start there. Should I make popcorn, then? Do we have raisinets?”

Sara whipped her head to him so fast she got whiplash. After _owww_ ing loud enough to draw Shane’s worried look, she asked, “Why would you want raisinets?”

Ryan lifted a brow at her. “Why wouldn’t I want raisinets? I eat popcorn with it?”

“What is this popcorn heresy you speak of?” Shane demanded immediately before pausing. His gaze sharpened. “The last time you made popcorn with raisinets, you turned out to be possessed by Goldsworth.”

“I always eat popcorn with raisinets,” Ryan pointed out firmly – so firmly, that for a moment Sara wondered if her memory of Ryan gushing about the perfection of buttered popcorn with nothing else passionately while drunk was wrong.

“No you don’t, you prefer buttered popcorn,” Shane said with a shake of his head.

Ryan’s resolution wavered. “Then why do I remember eating raisinet popcorn when I was a kid?”

Tinsley leaned forward. “Quick question. Did you get into contact with any spirit after Goldsworth left?”

“No?”

“Did he separate from you quickly or slowly?”

“It was really quick. I thought I was going to be ripped in two.”

Tinsley hummed in thought and fell silent.

Shane turned back to Ryan. “If you’re not possessed, then what’s happening?”

“I’m suspecting that Goldsworth’s memory bled into Ryan’s,” Tinsley chimed in.

“Whose memory did what to what?” Ryan repeated, clearly confused. A part of Sara was impressed that he didn’t trip over the words, considering how lost he looked.

“You shared control with him,” Tinsley pointed out. “As far as I know sharing control like you did with Goldsworth means you’re merging a lot of things. Aspects of both of you, I mean. In your case, it seems that memory is the one thing you two end up sharing a lot. And when merging like that happens, normally it would take time to separate things properly, but evidently you didn’t have that kind of time. So there are most likely aspects of Goldsworth still left in you.”

Sara frowned. “Is it _safe_?” she asked. “Like, will the memory get stronger and take over or some weird sci-fi shitty movie thing?”

Tinsley shrugged. “Probably not, but I really don’t know. This isn’t my forte. Maybe find a mage therapist specializing in spiritual matters if you want to be safe.”

Ryan nodded sullenly. “Explains why I get weird feelings around you three, now. Ricky was really fond of you. I’m not saying I’m not, but he was fond in a different way.” He glanced at Tinsley. “Speaking of therapists, don’t you need one too?”

Tinsley blinked owlishly. “Do I?”

“You were trapped in the shadow realm for what seemed like two years for you, I’d say you need one,” Sara pointed out.

“I don’t remember most of what happened though,” Tinsley muttered.

“That’s more reason to visit a therapist,” Shane insisted. “Just because you can’t remember it doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you. We all saw you flinching when a nurse greeted you in the hospital.”

“That’s because I didn’t know him,” Tinsley defended.

“Yeah, and you probably wouldn’t know the majority of population too,” Shane pointed out.

Tinsley opened his mouth to object, visibly wilted, and looked away with a sigh.

“Look, we all have a lot to think about here,” Ryan spoke up. “Maybe just eat dinner and watch movies tonight and then think it over more tomorrow when we’re rested. How about that?”

Tinsley sighed again. “That sounds reasonable,” he finally said.

“I’ll order the takeouts,” Shane offered.

“We can choose the movies!” Sara chirped cheerfully. She scooted closer to Ryan. “What do you have in your Netflix?”

“Well, we can see,” Ryan said as he turned on the TV. He and Sara both noticed Tinsley staring at the flat screen TV, then at the phone in Shane’s hand, then across the room as he took in the place and truly realized there were pieces of technology he didn’t know.

Sara leaned to him and smirked, asking, “How do you find the future, Tinsley? Is it as amazing as you’ve always imagined?”

That snapped through Tinsley’s apparent culture shock, and he responded with a wry but joking smile. “Considering that I’ve seen Back to the Future two and I haven’t seen any flying car or hoverboard, I’m not impressed.” His smile turned curious. “Are there more Jaws movies, like in Back to the Future?”

“No, just four,” Sara answered.

“Huh. I thought they’d pick the movies back up and make more of it.”

“There are a lot of options for shark related thriller movies if you want to watch them,” Ryan offered. A shit-eating grin overtook his face. “We can even watch Sharknado, all of them.”

Tinsley instantly looked lost. “Shark what now?”

“Oh, we’re definitely watching Sharknado tonight then,” Ryan decided, followed by anticipatory laughter.

“What sort of person would name a movie _Sharknado_ , of all things?” Tinsley asked again incredulously, and this time both Sara and Shane laughed too. Ryan had already started searching for the movies.

There were a lot of legal stuff they had to face soon, and recovery was a long, arduous road, but this seemed like a decent enough beginning. Sara sniffed the air, recognizing the smell of potpourri Ryan kept in the apartment, and found it somehow stronger with Tinsley’s presence, mingled with her own chalk-and-markers. It felt welcoming and warm.

She liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooo, that's some long hiatus! college sure is hell, wow!  
> this whole story has been _a journey_. there were really weird stuff i scraped off because i gave myself squick, honestly. nevertheless, i'm happy that i've finished this.
> 
> some notes:  
> \- i suck with endings, lol  
> \- tinsley does end up working at the agency. he helps the bois with cold cases because some of them were his  
> \- tinsley ends up rooming together with ryan while shane moves in with sara  
> \- ryan eventually sorts the whole ricky's memory thing and comes out with a whole lotta arsenal of protective spells
> 
> thanks everyone for sticking with this story! special thanks for everyone who has commented. let it be known that your comments have cheered me up for many days and have fueled me to finish this story. it's been fun writing this, and boy, rpf sure can be tricky. i might stick with the fictional characters if i write more bfu fics in the future.  
> anyway, thanks again! hope you all have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about bfu in my tumblr: [wheezebuddies](https://wheezebuddies.tumblr.com/)  
> initial idea for this story can be read here, if you're interested (warning: the post contains possible spoilers): [initial idea for story](https://wheezebuddies.tumblr.com/post/175179835609/im-having-possible-fic-idea-which-is-probably)


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